


The Second Targaryen Dynasty

by Targaryen92



Series: Targaryen Ascendancy [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dragons, Politics, R Plus L Equals J, Romance, War, direwolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2019-10-01 14:02:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 42
Words: 420,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17245526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Targaryen92/pseuds/Targaryen92
Summary: Jon and Daenerys grew up together in the Red Keep and fell in love in Winterfell. How will they handle their secret love when King Rhaegar has other plans? What will the Targaryens do when their enemies move against them?





	1. Arrival in King's Landing

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate Robert's Rebellion - Lyanna Stark was expected to wed Robert Baratheon, but the betrothal was never official before the Tourney of Harrenhal. After Lyanna left with Rhaegar, her brother and father were killed by the Mad King. Ned Stark, Robert Baratheon, and Jon Arryn raised their banners and secured the alliance with Hoster Tully. Several minor battles occurred before Rhaegar sought out Ned Stark and rallied the rebels to his cause. Tywin Lannister joined Rhaegar and the rebels to take King's Landing. Mad King was killed by Jaime Lannister before the wildfire caches could be used.

**296 AC**

**Jon Targaryen**

They were finally back home. For the past three years, he looked forward to returning from the North and seeing his family again. As he stood next to his horse overlooking the city of King’s Landing, his mind raced with thoughts of who he looked forward to the most. He could not wait to test his brother in the yard and spar to discover who had become the better swordsman. He was eager to see Rhaenys and hear of her tales of court in Sunspear. Jon wished to tell his grandmother of his visit to the Castle Black and the time spent with Uncle Aemon. He even missed his uncle Viserys or at least that is what he told himself. Most of all, he longed to see his father and mother, as well as Queen Elia, who was basically a second mother to him. He idolized his father and considered him the greatest king the Seven Kingdoms had seen since Jaehaerys I. Jon only hoped he could live up to his father’s legacy and always do the honorable thing. He just hoped his mother would not embarrass him once their group reached the Red Keep.

His thoughts were broken once he saw her moonlight hair out of the corner of his eyes lean into his right shoulder and felt those warm, soft hands encircle his arm. After thinking about all of those he cared about, he thought back to the time of his planned departure for the North and his fostering with his mother’s family in Winterfell. He had just seen his eleventh nameday and he was eager to see his Northern cousins. It was not until he prepared to say his farewells to his best friend that he felt the soul crushing guilt of leaving her. Daenerys Targaryen, his aunt, practically a sister, who was more to him than a sister, was the closest person to him. They had spent everyday of their childhood together and were inseparable. Reflecting on this time, he now felt grateful that Daenerys never took no for an answer and always proved to be a true dragon, always getting what she wanted. When he confessed his impending journey to the North, Daenerys held on to him, crying, not letting him from her grip. His father was never able to say no to his sister. It was rare, if not unheard for a highborn daughter, let alone a Princess, to be sent to foster with another family. It did not surprise Jon that Daenerys was the one to see it done. And once his father let Daenerys go with him, his sister Visenya followed, for she was always by their side and would not be left to “sew and dance” as she put it in the capitol. Without Daenerys and Visenya, Jon had his doubts about the strength he carried to be away from his family for such a period of time.

“I have missed this,“ Daenerys said staring upon the city, “the city, the Red Keep, our family.” She turned, looking up at him with those amethyst eyes he cherished and always lost himself in. “You try to stand here and brood, but I know you are happy to be back as well.”

“Aye.” Jon turned back, eyes searching for the rest of their guard to make their way around the bend in the Kingsroad around the woods behind them. He turned back to Daenerys and rested his hand upon the small of her back, then pulling her in for a long, enduring kiss he did not wish to end. It was not until their final two months in Winterfell that they truly confronted their true feelings for each other. That night in the godswood with the brisk, cool air and a light summer snow would forever be etched in his mind. After what felt like an eternity, the internal conflict in his mind gave way to the courage of bringing Daenerys to the godswood that night. He made sure that they would not have Ser Arthur bearing over them or Visenya getting in the way. Sitting next to the steaming pools before the great weirwood tree, Jon confessed his love for Daenerys and was hopeful he did not sound like the northern fool Daenerys always said him to be in jest. When she let him know her feelings were the same, it felt like a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders and he raised his hand to brush a loose strand of her hair behind her ear before taking her in for their first kiss. Upon releasing her from their embrace, he now prized the memory of that night even if he was a green boy in that moment. In truth he was still green and inexperienced in many things. Seeing Daenerys’ flushed face, hooded eyes, and full lips always brought a smile to his face and this time was no different.

He leant in again for more, but was stopped by Daenerys’ fingers over his mouth. “Stop. You are incorrigible”, she laughed. “If any of them see us, they will tell Rhaegar and who is to tell how he will react?” Before he was able to respond, they heard hooves racing around the bend of the Kingsroad.

Upon her white mare, Visenya came to an abrupt halt in front of them and dismounted from her saddle with the ease of an experienced rider, much like their mother. Visenya, much like Daenerys, possessed the classical Valyrian beauty of House Targaryen with her deep amethyst eyes and silver hair. Growing up in the Red Keep, those who saw Visenya would often mistake her for Daenerys’ twin with their very similar appearance and close age. It wasn’t just their beauty that Jon felt made them similar. Jon considered both to have good hearts and greater wisdom than anyone else their age. Both loved to read history and learn from a maester and ride horses. Where Visenya differed from Daenerys was her love of archery and swordplay. His uncle Ned called it the wolfsblood in her, much like their mother. While not permitted to train at arms with the Kingsguard or any master at arms, Jon taught Visenya how to wield a sword whenever he could.

“What are you two smiling about?” Visenya spoke as she walked up to them.

“You. How Rhaegar will react seeing his sweet little princess has grown into a northern warrior princess, wielding sword and bow like the ladies of Bear Island”, Daenerys replied with a smirk.

“You promised not to tell him!” She turned to him and said, “Ser Arthur and the household guard are not far behind.” As she wiped the sweat from her brow in the summer heat, “We should turn north and ride for Winterfell. I cannot stand this heat.”

“It will get easier once we are settled in and get wardrobe more appropriate for King’s Landing. I am sure many sons of great lords will then line up to seek your hand at feast”, Daenerys responded.

“You sound like Rhaenys. _Dresses and feasts._ And no, I am not interested in becoming the lady of some castle.” After glaring at Daenerys, Visenya started staring at him and began to make him uncomfortable.

“What?” he inquired.

“Nothing.” She shook her head with what appeared to him to be a face with hidden sadness. The cause of which he did not know and felt he would never know, because much like himself, Visenya was not one to express her feelings. “Here they are.” She climbed her mare and made for the Kingsroad at the head of the column with Ser Arthur. Jon turned to Daenerys and motioned towards their horses ready to make the short ride to the city.

 

Entering King’s Landing through the Dragon Gate, Jon wished Ser Arthur would quicken their pace through the city. He hated the attention and the frequent yells of their names as they made their way past thousands of smallfolk crammed into this city. Jon cared for the smallfolk and was proud of the changes his father brought upon their lives. The capitol still smelled in places and could be dirty in small parts of Flea Bottom, but apparently it was far worse before his time. His father was a well-liked King, but Jon also knew he must stay alert and protect Daenerys and his sister, for their family has dark parts in its history that are not easily forgotten and even the best who wield power may be targets of those who wish it for themselves. While the past fourteen years have been peaceful, Jon knew there were those who still may hold grievance with his grandfather, Daenerys’ father. A grandfather who had his other grandfather and uncle killed. He pushed those thoughts to the side as they approached the imposing Red Keep. Passing through the gates of the Red Keep, it finally hit him he was home, yet somehow, he felt a small piece of doubt, like somehow home wasn’t home anymore. Maybe home was Winterfell. Maybe it was Dragonstone or even the recently completed Summerhall. He did not know.

Ser Oswell Whent approached. “Prince Jon. Princesses.” After he bowed, he turned to Ser Arthur and gave him a look only those two understood. “I hear there is a story behind this sword”, Ser Oswell said as he glanced down at Longclaw at his hip.

“There is. I am sure it has been greatly exaggerated by now.” Jon responded.

“I also hear you are near a match for Arthur here.”

“We both know that is a lie.” Jon shook his head at the thought. How could he ever be as great as Ser Arthur? His idol. The Sword of the Morning. Jon may have looked up to his father and thought of him as a great king, but it was Ser Arthur Dayne he aspired to be like the most. He would never be king. That was Aegon. Jon wanted to be half the warrior Arthur was. He had trained with Arthur daily and word started to spread of his skill, but deep down, Jon knew this to be tales people liked to tell of princes. No one and especially not himself, could hope to match the Sword of the Morning. Visenya and Daenerys were always there, supporting him in between spars, and told him how well he had done. He knew Arthur allowed their spars to be more competitive than they otherwise would have been.

They soon began to make their way through the keep, through halls adorned with Targaryen tapestries and paintings dedicated to the great deeds of their ancestors. Along their path to the throne room, the same paintings caught his eyes. _Daeron conquering Dorne, Aemon the Dragonknight wielding Dark Sister, Aegon and his sisterwives riding upon their dragons, and Jaehaerys I sitting the Iron Throne next to Good Queen Alysanne._ As they approached the throne room, two members of the household guard, clad in their black armor with red accents, their house’s sigil on the breastplate, and black on red cloaks pushed the great large doors open.

There, standing upon the steps to the Iron Throne stood his father, King Rhaegar Targaryen I, wearing a black and red doublet, black breaches, and of course, his Valyrian steel crown in the shape of dragon flames encrusted with rubies. Next to him stood his mother wearing simple grey dress that did not hold extravagance the other ladies in King’s Landing wore. Upon her head sat a silver crown adorned with great, beautiful sapphires. While their house colors were not blue, Jon assumed his father commissioned the crown for his mother because the sapphires reminded her of the crown of roses his father presented her at Harrenhal. On his father’s other side stood Queen Elia in a crimson dress that held a similar appearance to those worn by most of the highborn ladies in the Crownlands. Elia’s crown was almost identical to that of Lyanna’s bar the sapphires for Elia’s held bright red rubies. To his mother’s right stood his grandmother in her typical white and purple dress and a silver crown adorned with amethyst stones to match her eyes. Beside his smiling grandmother was his uncle Viserys who appeared to be happy to see them, or at least Daenerys. To Elia’s left stood his brother, dressed much like his father with a sword at his hip. Jon gave him the same look he always gave him before they planned to spar. And finally, there stood his older sister, Rhaenys. Even in the North, he had heard she had grown to be one of the most beautiful women in the Seven Kingdoms and now with eyes laid upon her, he could not deny these tales. At nearly two- and one-half years older than himself, her sun-tanned skin, dark brown hair, and dark violet eyes would capture the attention of many suitors he would now have to watch out for.

Before he could even reach the steps to the Iron Throne, his mother was upon him, wrapping himself and his sister into a tight embrace. “You two are not leaving my sight for a very long time. How you’ve grown, my brave son!” His mother then turned and whispered something he could not hear into Visenya’s ear. After his grandmother was done welcoming Daenerys home, she was pulling his sister and himself in for hugs he felt would never end.

Out of nowhere, he was nearly brought to the ground as Rhaenys nearly sent him toppling to the floor. After holding onto her and regaining his balance, she had already started on, “You should see the feast we have planned for your return. My ladies in waiting are interested to see my northern brother. And Dany, Senya, the young lords at court have heard of your beauty. Father has received proposals from many lords already.”

“You know I hate feasts.”

“Yes, you rather sit in your chambers and skulk. And who said it was just for you? Senya and Dany don’t seem upset about it.” Rhaenys responded.

“Enough talk about the feast. How was the North my son?” His father interjected, giving him the same inquisitive look he held as if there was some mystery to sift through.

“As I said in my letters. I do not think you would enjoy the cold. You must travel there sometime, at least to see the Wall and Uncle Aemon.”

His brother Aegon then stepped in after talking to his sister. “Let’s see it.”

Jon shook his head quietly laughing and proceeded to unbuckle his sword belt. He then leveled the scabbard and unsheathed Longclaw which earned a gaping look on Aegon’s face that made him feel embarrassed. “You must have really impressed the Lord Commander for him to give you this.” His father spoke with more pride in his voice than Jon could ever recall.

“I didn’t deserve it. The sword belongs with House Mormont. I should have refused it.”

“Don’t listen to him. He fought bravely beyond the Wall. All the rangers saw it and Jeor Mormont saw something in you.” Daenerys stated proudly. Maybe too proudly considering Rhaenys was now giving them a look like they had been caught.

“Uncle Benjen said he saved the Lord Commander’s life when he was separated from the group. They said he fought ten of them by himself. All without Ser Arthur.” Visenya added to Daenerys’ testimonial.

“The wildlings were untrained and undisciplined.” Jon hated this praise and despised the idea that he was given a Valyrian sword after just one battle, if you could name it so, after only two days beyond the Wall. Brothers of the Watch had sacrificed and suffered far more. Why did he get such honor bestowed upon himself? He did not know. _Probably just because he was a Prince._

“Rhaegar, I’m sure the children are tired from their journey.” His mother then turned to them, “The servants will see your things to your chambers. We shall have supper together. The whole family.”

 

Jon was finally settled into his chambers and ready to gain needed sleep. His family had worn him, Daenerys, and Visenya out with questions of their time in the North. Jon wasn’t one for words and going on about the past three years for what felt like hours was tiresome. From his bed, he could look out into the black of night and see a star filled sky over Blackwater Bay. That sight soon changed once clouds had covered the stars and violent thunderstorms could be seen across the bay.

As his eyelids fell, Jon’s attention was captured by the disturbance on the other side of his chambers from what sounded like his living area. Just as he was dismissing the noise, he heard the soft feet scuttling across his floor and he knew who it was. As he turned over, Daenerys was slipping into his bed in her nightgown which left little to the imagination. Before he could say anything, her lips were locked with his and he soon forgot his protest to her actions. When he finally recoiled for air, he held her face, admiring her and what she did to him. “What are you doing here? If my father discovers us like this…”

“We have been on the road for a month. I am tired of being apart and hiding. And it is storming outside. We never let each other sleep alone when a terrible storm was keeping us up.” She smiled at what he could only guess were old memories.

“Aye. But that was different. We were children. Not like this.” He retorted.

“No, not like this.” Daenerys was then atop him, straddling his waist. She must have felt his hardness against her core but she did not care or didn’t let on. She was capturing his tongue again as his hands roamed her body. If she kept grinding her body against his, he did not know how long he would be able to hold back. They had done nothing beyond kissing and feeling each other. And he would keep it that way, at least for as long as he could. He did not want to dishonor Daenerys. Never.

After some time, she came to rest against his side with an arm draped across his chest and her head resting on his shoulder as she stared out at the storms.

“Rhaenys knows of us. Or at least suspects.” Jon said with trepidation.

“She won’t say anything. She is too busy with Aegon.”

“What?” Jon said with his eyes wide open looking down at Daenerys.

“Yes. He is only slightly better at deception than you. Stare at me any longer at supper and everyone will know.” Daenerys then sat up and got out of the bed, walking out onto the terrace. Her beauty in the moonlight was only enhanced and he felt like nothing else in the world mattered as he walked over behind her, pulling her in. She smelled of lavender and her soft, flowing hair brought him to the realization everything about her was perfect for him and he would never be able to let go. While standing with her flush against him and his arms wrapped around her front, Jon raised his hand to move her hair to the side and began to kiss a path up along her neck towards her jawline. When they were close like this, he knew she was the blood of the dragon. His preference for the cool air in the North and the way Daenerys felt like a raging fire made him doubt he was much of a dragon at all. _More wolf than dragon._

“Let’s return to bed. I know we both need the rest and I am sure my sister and Allyria will seek your attention tomorrow.” As they returned to his bed and felt the sleep creeping in, he realized he wanted this for the rest of his life. Jon knew he would eventually need to gather the courage to ask his father for Dany’s hand and hope she would not be betrothed for some alliance to some shit lord in the South.

 

 

 

**Daenerys Targaryen**

Getting out of Jon’s chambers unnoticed was a task she took to with ease. As children, they had learnt the secret passages that wound through Maegor’s Holdfast and into the Red Keep and further into the city in case they ever needed to escape. Some passages she learned from her brothers, others from Aegon and Rhaenys. Most were revealed to her by accident when she would play games in the Keep with Jon and Visenya as children. She told herself she needed to take care with her secret rendezvous at night for hidden passages eased her masking of travel to Jon’s chambers. She worried what would happen should her mother or some overbearing Kingsguard such Ser Barristan or Ser Jaime would come to her room and notice her absence. Even worse, she could be found lying in bed with Jon and there was no excuse even she hoped to give. They hadn’t begun to explore each other in ways others their age had, but being found together in his bed would not look innocent.

Thinking of their bond and feelings towards each other, Daenerys knew she wanted to take it further. She knew Jon would probably never ask out of honor. _Her honor._ At least that is what he probably told himself. Now when she was alone in her chambers, preparing for the night’s feast, she slipped out of her dress ready to make her way to the steaming bath in her chambers. All of her thoughts of Jon could not be removed from her mind and she slowly reached down to her wet folds and began to pleasure herself imagining it was another performing this act. As she reached her peak and began to climax, his name was on the edge of her lips. Tonight, she wished to tempt him into discovering more of her body and she could try to please him. He always tried to avoid it but eventually he could never hide how aroused she made him.

After removing herself from the steaming hot water, Daenerys received assistance from two servant girls she had not met before. They aided her with her preparations for the feast by helping her dry herself with fresh towels and braided her hair. Upon getting up from her chair in front of her looking glass, she moved to her large collection of fragrances and oils she was not able to bring North. She always used lavender fragrance because that’s what Jon liked. Or maybe that’s all he knew. Regardless, she wanted to please him tonight and hoped to stir some bravery within him for when they met in the hour of the wolf.

As she was slipping on her red dress. The same red as the three-headed dragon on her house sigil, Daenerys turned to the knock at her open door. “You have returned the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms.” Her mother stated with a smile on her face and a nod to the servants telling them to leave.

“You said this yesterday.” Daenerys retorted. She felt vain thinking on the matter but she knew her beauty. People confused her for Visenya all the time and she could not deny her beauty. Her nieces, no sisters, were the most beautiful girls she knew. Maybe she hadn’t seen enough of Westeros. Now that she pondered the matter, she felt she was surrounded by the most beautiful women in the world. Allyria Dayne, her mother Ashara, Queen Lyanna, Queen Elia, even her own mother. Her mother may be the age of fifty, she still possessed otherworldly beauty that was envied. People who knew her mother in her childhood always commented she looked just like her.

“It is still true today. Things have changed since you have been away. You are a woman now, or at least that is what the world would tell us. The young lords at court will have an eye for you and seek your hand.” As Daenerys sighed, her mother’s face formed an inquisitive look and she continued, “Or has someone already gained your favor? Maybe a certain future Warden of the North?”

“Robb?” Daenerys replied incredulously. “No! He is like a brother to me.” _Well, Jon was like a brother to her and that did not stop them._ Daenerys needed to shift the focus from herself. “Have you found any worthy suitors? Even I recognized Lord Velaryon’s gestures and gifts as a girl.”

“He wishes. I should be grateful I guess. Widow to the Mad King.” Her mother spoke softly with a sad face Daenerys knew she tried to hide. “No. I think I shall not marry again. I am content with the family I have. Is there some great life full of joy to be found on Driftmark or some other castle across the kingdoms? I should think not.”

“Well just know I wish for you to be happy mother.”

“I think I will leave you now. I am sure Visenya will be here any moment. I know Rhaenys and Allyria have been dying to have you back. Arianne Martell will be someone I think you should enjoy. She has her wits about her but sometimes I think our niece’s cousin thinks she is smarter than what she is. And watch out for Margaery Tyrell. She is hard to miss, what with those dresses she brings from Highgarden. She may play innocent but I know she is Olenna’s creature. She’s already tempting Aegon and your brother is stupid enough to give the Tyrells what they want.”

“Mother, Rhaegar knows how to rule. The Tyrells have been loyal to our house. They did not tell of Rhaegar’s plans for the throne before I was born.”

Her mother shook her head and huffed at that. “Yes, they stood behind your brother when it was safe. Stand they did and slow. Mace Tyrell is dimwitted and lacks courage. Not an ally to be relied upon. I will give them this, the Queen of Thorns will draw blood with her words. Remember, she seeks power and that starts with getting Tyrell blood on the Iron Throne.”

“You make her sound like Cersei Baratheon.”

“Lannister. And do not insult her. Olenna is neither evil nor stupid.” At that her mother stood and left the room leaving with Ser Jonothor Darry in tow.

 

Daenerys made her way into the Great Hall with Visenya at her side. The hall was filled with people. Targaryen guards at their post, servants bringing forth food and wine, lords and ladies and knights from across the Seven Kingdoms dancing, talking, and surely scheming. As she turned her focus to the dais, she saw her brother and his two queens seated at the center of the table. Viserys was off to the side, snickering about something. Her mother sat next to Lyanna, laughing about something. Elia was engaged in some serious conversation with Ashara Dayne. For those at court for the first time, it may seem odd, seeing a lady not part of the royal family at the table but Ashara and Allyria always had a place at the head table. There were whispers and she tried not to pay them mind. _Ashara Dayne, the King’s secret lover and his third Queen._ Anyone who knew Lyanna knew that was nonsense. Tolerating a mistress? Never. Legitimizing Allyria did not dampen the rumors, but they were practically family and she was glad her brother gave Allyria her mother’s family name.

She shifted her attention towards the table before the dais with members of House Martell and various Dornish houses. Jon sat at the table between two attractive ladies at or near their age. Both black of hair. One had soft green eyes, the other brown. They sat too close for her comfort. Now they were both resting their hands on his arm and shoulder. She could tell that look on his face. He didn’t like feasts and he did not enjoy the attention, well at least attention that was not hers. “Look at these two.” She turned to Visenya who held a face of contempt if not hatred. Daenerys words broke Visenya’s focus.

“There will only be more of it. The one on the left is Mya Blackwood and the other is Jeyne Bracken. I met them earlier today. They are quite nice.” Visenya responded. Daenerys wondered what Jon had done to earn her ire. Visenya was rarely angered by her brother. Reflecting on all their years together, she couldn’t recall a memory that included Visenya not idolizing Jon. Probably too busy sparring with Ser Arthur and Aegon and not sparring with her.

“Perhaps he’ll need saving later. Blood will be spilled with those two fighting over him, no matter how kind they may be.” As they moved towards the dais, they were intercepted by Allyria and Rhaenys.

“Our princesses of Old Valyria!” Rhaenys spoke with joy and gathered Visenya’s hands in hers. “How was Winterfell sister? Did you get enough time to read your books and practice with your bow?”

“Winterfell was tremendous. The snow was beautiful and there is no court there. I feel guilty leaving Uncle Aemon at the wall. He is old and blind. He should be here with us. A Grand Maester. Did you know...” Visenya was cut off.

“Let me introduce my cousin, Princess Arianne Martell.” Arianne curtsied and Daenerys realized she could not miss Arianne’s alluring features. Olive skin, black hair, dark eyes, full lips, large breasts, and curves that appeared through her dress that hinted at an arse Jon would enjoy. _If she tries anything, I’ll kill her._

“Princess Visenya. Princess Daenerys. You two should come to Dorne with Rhaenys. You would love the Water Gardens. It is quite freeing to swim in the pools and enjoy the cool water under the sun. The Dornishmen would sing songs of your fair looks in the pools under fountains.” Arianne spoke with her seductive Dornish accent. Daenerys was sure she did enjoy swimming at the Gardens, bare for admirers to stare and pass on tales of her beauty. She couldn’t see herself doing the same. If Jon were there, he would probably run Longclaw through every man staring at her or his sisters.

“Thank you for the invitation. I know we will be travelling to Summerhall in some months. Maybe we shall visit Dorne after.” Daenerys told the lie.

“The men watch the women swim at the Water Gardens?” Visenya uttered with shock in her voice.

“Always the prude, yes Senya. They aren’t standing around gawking like drunkards at a brothel but occasionally, a man may see you in the nude. I am sure you will wish for it someday.” Rhaenys spoke with confidence. Daenerys was sure Rhaenys probably spent time in those pools with Aegon.

“I think I prefer the North. If any of the men snuck into the Godswood and stared at us in the hot springs, Uncle Ned would have their heads on spikes.” Visenya turned to what could only be Margaery Tyrell approaching.

Allyria then spoke, “My princesses, this is Lady Margaery Tyrell.”

“The stories do not do your beauty justice princesses.” Margaery said with the confidence of a lady ready to rule her household. Observing her dress, Daenerys wondered whether Margaery could reveal anymore of her breasts to catch Aegon’s attention. If she didn’t catch Aegon in her net, Jon would surely be her next target. Maybe she should subtly encourage this match. It would anger Rhaenys but why take the chance? No, she was being paranoid. Jon loved her and would never betray her.

“Thank you.” Daenerys replied for them both. “I love your dress Lady Margaery. I am sure many great lords will fall for your beauty and make you the lady of a great castle.” Lady. A key distinction. Daenerys hoped her words had their intended effect. Margaery’s false smile let her know her sharp tongue had struck, a trait she earned from her mother though no one outside the family would know it. To the world, Queen Rhaella was a kind and soft-spoken widow who never had a bad word to say about anyone.

She was finally at the royal table on the dais next to her mother and the first thing she sees is Jon dancing with the Blackwood girl. She was fine with this. They had discussed it this morning and knew they had to keep what they had hidden. He looked like a fool. He could not dance. But he was her fool and no one else’s. That is why it hurt to see it. Even if it was a harmless dance. She decided to ignore this and eat the food presented before her. Chicken, boar, lemon cakes, pigeon pie, and various fruits and vegetables. Daenerys ate little for she did not want to be too tired for tonight.

After a long conversation with her mother and Lyanna about the goings on in the capitol since she had been gone, Quentyn Martell approached asking for a dance. She turned to Visenya hoping for help. She received none as Visenya tried hold in her laughter. Quentyn was a good dance partner. She had to give him that. But his efforts to woo her left her unimpressed. He talked of Dorne and his training with spear and sword. If only he knew who held her heart, he would try another tact for Jon trained with Ser Arthur. He had fought wildlings beyond the Wall. He impressed the Lord Commander enough to earn Longclaw. She had never been prouder of him when he returned with that sword. He never talked to her about his fighting skills because he was never one to boast. She knew how hard he worked to earn his skill with the blade and it was his passion in life. The song ended and people began to switch partners on the floor.

She felt the hand on her shoulder and turned to him as he asked, “May I have this dance princess?”

What was he thinking? All this time he talked of trying to keep what they had hidden and he acts this boldly now? “Yes.” She nearly whispered. It was a slow dance for a slow song. She tried to keep a distance between them. “You are terrible at hiding this. Us.” She said in a low voice.

“I can’t help it.” He looked around seeing if anyone was actually paying attention.  

Daenerys noticed Rhaenys eyeing them both from their family’s table and quickly proceeded to avert her eyes for she knew the guilt on her face, of someone being caught, would only confirm Rhaenys’ suspicions. She felt herself leaning into Jon’s grasp and realized she needed to keep up their mummery. “When you return to your chambers tonight, I shall have a present for you.” She whispered into his ears before pulling away as the song ended and she left the floor. As she glanced back at Jon, his eyes were still lingering on her form. _The fool,_ she thought even if deep down she loved it when he admired her.

As the feast started to simmer and see some of the attendees retire for the night, she spoke with her brother and her good-sisters for some time before she announced her retirement for the night. As she made for the royal apartments, she was joined by Visenya as they had always left events together. The closer they got to their chambers, Daenerys found herself to be the only one talking about the feast, describing who had changed in their time away, asking Visenya what she thought of new face such as Margaery Tyrell, and who she now disliked. She thought to herself that maybe this was a subject not to be of interest to Visenya. Get her talking about history, particularly that of Houses Targaryen or Stark, or horseback riding, or her bow, or sword, and you could not get her to stop. “Are you not happy to be back here?”

They were now outside Visenya’s chambers which just so happened to be right next to a great portrait of Visenya riding Vhagar. “What? Yes. Why do you ask?” Visenya said with almost a crack in her voice with the look of a girl about to shed tears.

“You have hardly said a word all night and you look upset over something or someone. Did some stupid boy same something?” Daenerys tried to find the truth and could not grab hold of the truth.

“No. I am just eager to get in my bed and rest. I have much to do on the morrow.” Visenya opened her door and disappeared into her chambers. Daenerys thought it must be the blood of the First Men in her for Visenya was much like her brother. Both like to hide their emotions and never thought to ask others for support.

Getting lost in Visenya’s problems almost led her to forgetting what she had intended for the night. Daenerys walked quickly to her room and rushed to her wardrobe. She could have asked for the maids to help her get off her exquisite dress but decided she could do so herself. Standing nude in front of her looking glass, she started to scrutinize every inch of her own body, hoping Jon would love what he saw. She knew he loved her for she loved him, but she was an inexperienced girl and this was something she had never done before. The doubt would not go away. After putting her light-violet nightgown that went halfway down her thighs on, she snuck into the secret passageway accessible from her wardrobe room.

Jon’s chambers were dark and only lit by the moon on this night. She turned the corner and found him sitting on his bed without a shirt on and only in his usual black breeches. “Waiting for someone?” she spoke with her most seductive voice.

That brought a smile on his face that was illuminated by the five or so lit candles in the room. “Aye. The most beautiful princess in the world.” He responded in that husky voice with a slight Northern tilt that drove her mad with lust. She found herself already wet, ready for him, and trying to rub her thighs together to alleviate some of her built up tension.

She took several steps so she stood before him as he sat on the edge of the bed looking her up and down. As she started to pull the bottom of her gown to take it off, he stopped her hands. “Wait, Daenerys, you don’t have to…”

“I want to.” She nearly whispered and continued to remove her nightgown. Immediately as it fell to the floor, she couldn’t contain her excitement as she saw his face fill with wonder and awe. Before he could find the words, he laid his hands upon her hips and pulled her into his lap. She let out a gasp as he soon took her breast in one hand and began to fondle her. As he continued to roll her nipple with his thumb and made her back arch. All of a sudden, she felt his mouth on her other breast and she began to run her hand through his raven curls. They continued like this for what felt like forever.

As much pleasure as this brought her, she came here for more. Slowly, she guided his hand from her breast, down her stomach, to her wet lips ready for him. He gazed into her eyes as if asking permission and she nodded. He started by tracing his fingers over her wet folds and she realized he did not know what he was doing. Her hand started to guide his and led him to her nub to send her over the edge. His name was repeated over and over into his ear as she was coming undone. Without intending to do so, she was moaning words in High Valyrian voicing her pleasure. Soon enough, her body shook as her back arched back again and felt her toes curl as she climaxed. At least Jon had enough focus to lock his lips with hers to contain her screams of bliss.

Resting her sweating forehead against his shoulder as he held her, “That was amazing.” She started to reach down towards his member and began to unlace his breeches. “I want to see you. All of you.” He proceeded to get up and remove his breeches and then smallclothes. Finally, she could see his cock and she couldn’t help but be impressed. She had felt it up against he before but for some reason it was larger than she had imagined. Ready to please him, she moved to place her hands on it before Jon stopped her.

“I’m not done with you yet.” He said in a near whisper. Jon then hoisted her legs up in the air as he pushed her back further into the bed. Brushing a strand of hair out of her face behind her ear, she leaned her face into his warm hand. It was then he seized her lips and their tongues battled uncontrollably until he started to leave a trail of kisses down her neck to her breasts and to her stomach. Slowly he moved just above her small thatch of silver curls and caught her by surprise. _What was he doing?_ Before she could protest, his tongue was having its fill of her juices. At this moment she could not think as his tongue danced between her folds and lavished her clit. Under her hooded eyes, all she could see were stars as she came undone. This time there was nothing to silence her sobs, even screams, and words she did not remember except for his name.

When he was finished after what felt like hours and many orgasms she pounced on him before he could retreat. She grabbed his cock, which was already weeping with precum in one hand, and placed her other hand along her entrance. Once her hand was wet from her own juices, she took his cock and set a steady pace which he helped guide. Unable to remove her eyes from her work, she hurried her pace as he began to growl and with heavy breadth, repeating “Dany.” As he came, she began to imagine what it would feel like for him to be inside her and give her his seed. She didn’t know what he thought of the subject but she would not be disappointed to give him princes and princesses in a year or more.

“That thing you did with your tongue?” She broke the silence while they lay under the sheets staring out at the moon over the Blackwater.

“Aye. What about it? You seemed to like it.”

“I did, it’s just, well I have never heard of this? You didn’t learn this at a brothel with Theon, did you?” Daenerys realized she may have placed a little too much venom into the last of her words.

“No, there has been no one else. You know that.” He then kissed the side of her temple. “Its just…Men talk and I here ladies like it so…”

“Well, you should keep on doing it.” Her mind began to twist with ideas of what further activities they could explore. “Did you want to go further tonight?”

“No. I do not wish too take your maidenhead so quickly. And if you were to get pregnant…” He trailed off with a look of worry.

“I can always get moon-tea for that. Although, would it be so bad having children?”

“No, I wish that for us. But not today. I would not dishonor you.”

A thought then came to her mind, “Let’s ask for a marriage near your sixteenth nameday. Not now of course, but when the time is right. That gives us nearly two years to just enjoy this, each other.”

It was that night she fell asleep after what she felt was the happiest time of her life and her dreams were filled with visions that did not make sense. _She was flying atop a black dragon so massive it must have been Balerion The Black Dread. A direwolf lying lifeless with the antlers of a stag piercing its side. A great fire under a mountain. Jon standing on the Wall in all black. A field of fire. Blood on the floor of the Throne Room. Visenya and Rhaenys surrounded by children on the beaches of Dragonstone. And finally, Jon with a weary face raising a Valyrian sword in a great snowstorm._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (First Fic. Welcome criticism of plot holes and serious errors in writing.)
> 
> (Should I add all planned relationship tags?)
> 
>  
> 
> Queen Rhaella Targaryen - 50  
> King Rhaegar Targaryen - 36  
> Queen Lyanna Stark - 31  
> Queen Elia Martell - 33  
> Princess Rhaenys Targaryen – 16  
> Crown Prince Aegon Targaryen – 15  
> Prince Jon Targaryen – 14  
> Princess Daenerys Targaryen – 13.5  
> Princess Visenya Targaryen – 13  
> Ashara Dayne – 32  
> Allyria Dayne – 15  
> Arianne Martell – 17  
> Robb Stark – 14  
> Sansa Stark – 11  
> Arya Stark - 9  
> Bran Stark - 8  
> Rickon Stark - 4


	2. Adjusting to King's Landing

 

**Visenya Targaryen**

“Senya. Wake up. Visenya, it is time to get up.” Visenya started to open her eyes as she felt her brothers hand shake her shoulder, probably with the hope that this would get her out of bed with greater speed. While gathering her surroundings, she could not find the sunrise for the sky was still dark and she could barely make out Jon’s face in the shadows. This had become their routine for the past three months since they had returned home. Jon would come to her room with several practice swords with blunted blades for them to practice with. He left her to wait on the couch in the other room as she dressed in her clothes fit for sparring. Her father would dislike her dressing like this and learning the sword but she did not understand why. When her father met her mother, he knew who he fell in love with and Lyanna Stark was not one to let men do her fighting. Once she finished dressing and lacing her boots, she grabbed her waterskin and nodded her head towards the door, telling her brother know she was ready to train.

Ser Jaime and Prince Lewyn were the Kingsguard on duty in the hallway this morning standing guard outside her family’s rooms. She thanked the Old Gods they did not ever tell her father of this daily occurrence for fear of him putting an end to it. Ser Jaime nodded his headed as they scurried past him and the other guards at the end of the hallway before the stairway.

In silence, they made the long trek through the keep and past the sounds of the keep coming alive for the day. Eventually they reached the entrance to the catacombs beneath the Red Keep. Jon made his way around the spacious area and lit the braziers around them so they would have enough firelight to see what they were doing. Behind Jon laid the skull of Balerion. It was the largest dragon and she always felt in awe of its presence until that feeling turned to sadness for her ancestors saw the end to dragons in this world. She always dreamt of having a dragon. But that’s all it was a dream, but she would give anything to bring the dragons back for there was nothing she wanted more in her life. Well, almost more than anything.

Walking around the dragon skulls as her brother prepared for sparring, her imagination was filled with her hopes and dreams. Turning her eyes back upon her brother standing before the dragon skulls, she thought of what it might be like to call him her husband and she be his wife. Jon was a great warrior in her eyes already, even if he had only been in one battle, against wildlings. She knew he would make a great Prince of Summerhall and perhaps Hand of the King to Aegon one day. It hurt to know his heart belonged to another. Worse, it was her best friend and aunt, Daenerys. People said they were twins for they held a similar appearance and were only seven months apart in age. Her mother always said those who thought so weren’t necessarily wrong considering they shared a deep, unbreakable bond like twins do. Anyone else, besides Rhaenys she figured, she would make an effort to dissuade Jon from caring for them. But she loved Daenerys and could never do that to her, even if she wanted Jon for herself. Perhaps one day she would confront Daenerys about her feelings and see if she would share Jon. She was willing to do that. Aegon The Conqueror had two wives. Why couldn’t Jon? Curse the Seven and curse the High Septon. They were Targaryens and they answered to no gods.

“Ready?” Jon said with a stern face. If only he knew.

“Yes.” She said with steeled conviction as he tossed a sword to her. Almost as soon as she grasped the handle, Jon was on the attack with two swords for the first time. Curse him and his years of training with the Sword of the Morning. He made quick work of her, knocking her sword out of her hands. “Now you fight with two blades?” She felt a bit of frustration and anger fill her voice.

“Ser Arthur always changed styles and tactics. You never know what enemy you may face and the more you see, there is less of a chance being caught by surprise.” Jon leaned down, picked up the sword and handed it back to her. “Again!” he yelled as he raised one sword and attacked with another.

 

“You may leave us.” Rhaenys ordered the servants as she sipped from her cup of Arbor gold. Her sister seemed to exude the qualities of a lady, a princess, a queen effortlessly. Envy was what she felt towards her sister when she would catch the attention of every young lord and knight that was in her presence. If only Visenya knew how to have this effect on men, she could attain the only one she wanted. “So, do you miss Damon?”

“In my bed. Outside of that, he hasn’t much use.” Arianne said as they all giggled around their table under the pavilion in the Royal Gardens just to the north of the Red Keep along the cliffs that gave an open view of Blackwater Bay. “And what of Aegon, is he keeping you up all night?” At that question, Visenya felt like her eyes couldn’t get any bigger.

“Night. Morning. Afternoon. He can’t get enough.” Rhaenys laughed and continued to sip from her cup. At first, she was surprised at the openness of Arianne and Margaery but hearing her older sister was bedding her oldest brother left her speechless. “Daenerys, have you found someone who has captured your heart?”

“No.” Dany replied without hesitation. _Liar._ “If I had, you all would know already.”

“What about you Princess Visenya? Surely the young lords, knights, and squires in the city have lined up to seek your hand.” Margaery asked with her fake smiles, or at least what she thought were fake.

Before she could respond, Rhaenys interjected, “That’s not my little sister. She has her head stuck in books and when she is not reading, she is training to be her namesake reincarnate.” As they locked eyes, her sister continued, “She doesn’t realize her own beauty. She could have any man she wanted.”

“If only that were so.” _Shit! Did that just come out of my mouth?_ Daenerys’ attention was piqued and seemed to drop the curiosity.

“So, who is this lucky man you admire? Does he know?” Rhaenys asked. Visenya wished she would let this go. “Surely I can help you capture his heart.”

“No. And it doesn’t matter. He is not in King’s Landing.” She lied. Rhaenys shook her head as if she knew it was a lie.

“Your brother hasn’t been betrothed yet, has he?” Arianne interrupted the silence.

“Now he is a prize. The Prince of Summerhall. He will have ladies falling over themselves for him. I hear Tywin Lannister wants the King to betroth him to Myrcella Baratheon.” Margaery stated.

Visenya noticed Daenerys tense at that statement and try to hide her disgust. She would be lying if she didn’t feel the same. Myrcella? Last she recalled, she was several years younger than herself. Younger than Sansa. No, Jon would not wait for her and surely Daenerys would not let it happen.

“My little brother having Cersei Lannister as his good-mother? My father should be named The Cruel if he accepts that match.” Rhaenys’ jest earned everyone’s laughter, but inside Visenya was raging at the thought.

As midday approached and their conversations covered all sorts of gossip around the Red Keep, Visenya grew tired with talk of things that did not interest her. “Excuse me ladies. My brothers should be sparring soon and I promised to be in attendance.”

“I’ll come with you.” Daenerys stood and started to walk with her. She was going for the same reason she was. Jon.

“We’ll go with you.” She heard Rhaenys yell behind them.

 

 

**Rhaenys Targaryen**

“Loras! Highgarden!” Margaery cheered her brother on has he met Jon’s blade blow for blow.  Loras’ skill with a sword was undisputed and Rhaenys could tell without knowing anything about combat. But then again, the Knight of Flowers had only proven himself in tourneys fighting southern knights. Visenya made sure to remind her of Jon’s deeds beyond the Wall and said Jon was nearly as good as Ser Arthur. From what she could see Jon was quick and agile but did not appear to have some great advantage in skill.

Turning her head from the fight in the small arena, if you could call it that, she observed her sister focused on the fight cheering their brother on. Daenerys couldn’t hide her disgust whenever Margaery voiced words of encouragement for Loras. At the sound of steel meeting steel, Rhaenys turned her attention back to Jon who appeared to be getting tired from the blows. As Loras was gaining the upper hand, Jon moved quickly tripping Loras’ legs out from under him and brought the blunted blade to his throat as he lay on the ground.

“Jon is really good.” Allyria said next to her. “Loras didn’t know it but Jon’s struggle was false. He lured him in and knew he was overconfident. My uncle taught him well.” Allyria’s face had a smirk that showed her pride in her legendary uncle and their brother. Allyria may not have the Targaryen name, but she was as close as a sister to all her siblings. She had grown up in the Red Keep with them and was her best friend.

“Look at these two.” Rhaenys nodded to Daenerys speaking to Jon while Visenya brought him some water to recover from his efforts. “Maids swooning over a tourney champion.” Rhaenys said with sarcasm obvious in her words.

“They’ll be disappointed when your father finds different matches for both of them. Do you think either of them knows the other has affections for Jon?”

Rhaenys shook her head. “Daenerys does not know of Visenya’s true feelings. My little sister tries to hide it, but she looks like she has tears ready to spill whenever she sees the two of them together.”

“Maybe you or I should talk to her. Visenya still holds her feelings in. So, you and Egg?”

“Are doing well. My father and mother still do not know.” Rhaenys saw Margaery and Arianne speaking to Aegon as he was preparing to spar with Jon. She faced the same problems Dany and Jon did. How was she going to stop her father’s probable plans of seeking betrothals that would create alliances with the other great houses.

Allyria interrupted her thoughts, “Our friend down there is set on becoming the Queen.”

“Well it’s a good thing she will be leaving for Highgarden in four days. She doesn’t worry me. Egg knows who his Queen will be. And if my father insists on pleasing the Queen of Thorns, then my brother can have a second queen. And she will be second.” Rhaenys added with determination.

Aegon started to walk towards Jon swirling his sword around and winked at her. _Idiot. You are going to get knocked on your ass with that ego._ She had found her brother’s self-confidence and outgoing personality attractive. The look he gave her also let her know he had plans for her later.

There were about three dozen people observing the fight now. A number of the Kingsguard stood around her brothers seeing the fruits of their training firsthand. Ser Jaime. Ser Arthur. Ser Barristan. All with proud looks on their face. Aegon was the first to strike and Jon parried the blow. It was a dance of two skilled fighters. That much she could tell. Around her, numerous ladies, highborn and some low, were cheering on the spectacle. Over and over again they went. As time went on and Aegon won more and more, after initially looking to be slightly inferior, she realized the truth of it. Jon was losing on purpose. She didn’t like it but she guessed she should be glad for it.

Aegon and Jon were as close as brothers could get. Some in the kingdoms would seek to divide them in the future when her father’s rule would end. Two brothers, two different mothers. Any lords wishing for another Daeron and Daemon would be disappointed. Jon would never betray Egg and was proving it now, sacrificing his own pride trying to make the Crown Prince appear to be the superior fighter with so many eyes on them.

As the sparring came to an end and the onlookers started to withdraw, Rhaenys made her way down to her brothers with Allyria at her side. “Sweet sister, I hope we impressed.” Aegon said before embracing her with a hug.

“Jon let you win.” She felt safe saying considering everyone around was family. Margaery had already left with her brother and the Kingsguard were talking amongst themselves.

“Nonsense. Aegon is a great swordsman. He doesn’t need my help to win.” Jon retorted. He was a terrible liar and ever since they were little children, she could see through his lies.

“Is it true?” Aegon asked their brother with a worried look.

“No. Rhaenys is just messing with your head. I’ll see you at the Small Council meeting later.” Jon said and turned to leave with Daenerys and Visenya.

“If I find out he is holding back, I’m going to kill him.” Aegon said with frustration.

“Come brother, escort us back to the keep.” Rhaenys then entwined her arm with his. They made their way slowly through the gardens. She to Aegon’s left and Allyria to his right, with Ser Jaime and Ser Barristan the Bold far enough behind so as not to seem too overbearing. Thinking of Ser Barristan’s nickname always made her feel safe but now it brought her sadness. For the man standing next to him had earned the less appealing moniker, Kingslayer. To the world, he was an oathbreaker and knight without honor who betrayed his King. Rhaenys always made sure to scold the lords and ladies who called him Kingslayer in her presence. He was the one who guarded her the most of all the Kingsguard and was like a second father to her. Jaime would try to hide behind the mask of arrogance and superiority you would expect from a Lannister, but Rhaenys knew in her heart it hurt him that his name was likely forever stained. He sacrificed his honor to save a city, to save her family, to save herself. She would never forget this. “So, father has you attending every Small Council meeting now?”

“Yes. He goes to great lengths explaining to me my duty and what I need to do for Westeros. Its all rather boring. Lord Arryn tries to convince father of building alliances through marriage, Varys tells tales from his little birds, Lord Velaryon wants more ships, Lord Stannis wants to punish everyone, and now we have that drunkard Robert Baratheon at the table wanting to go to war any chance he gets.”

“I still don’t understand father’s motives for having him on the council. And I hate the way he looks at Lyanna. You would think fifteen or so years would have quelled his feelings.”

“The King probably wants to keep him close exactly for that reason. Lord Robert was a great warrior in the Greyjoy Rebellion and my mother has always said if your father had not gotten word to Eddard Stark, Robert would have burned the Seven Kingdoms to have Lyanna’s hand and kill your grandfather.” Allyria said.

“I guess Robert is preferable to his son. Joffrey is a shit. Future Lord of the Stormlands. Seven hells.” Aegon said with dread knowing he would have to deal with Joffrey when he would sit the Iron Throne. Rhaenys thought in her mind, better Joffrey be a shit and lacking cunning than an intelligent leader who could oppose her brother.

“There you are.” Their mother, Queen Elia made her way down a corridor in the Red Keep towards them at a graceful pace. “I have requested the city’s best jewelers to bring their best work. I was hoping you would join us. Lyanna and I have managed to even pull your sister away from her books.”

“Don’t see to the ruin of Westeros while at the meeting. I shall see you later.” Rhaenys embraced her brother and turned to Allyria, both following her mother.

 

 

**Aegon Targaryen**

“Myr and Tyrosh are at war again. In the east, little birds sing and tell tales of the Golden Company fighting for Myr.” Varys, the Spider, had been going on for some time now, letting the council know what songs he had heard from across the Narrow Sea. Aegon hoped Varys could be around during his reign. Unlikely considering his age. Would he ever find a spymaster so skilled at gathering others’ secrets? He thought not.

“It’s a surprise the peace has lasted this long. Lys will surely enter the fray and seek to gain advantage in the chaos. Lord Velaryon, see to it the Royal Fleet at Dragonstone and Driftmark are ready should any of fighting spill across the Stepstones and interrupt shipping. Do we know if the Iron Bank is backing either side, if not both?” His father inquired with the serious face of a king. Sometimes Aegon wondered whether the crown his father wore would wear him down to nothing. His mother said he had always been melancholic and now that he was King, the stress was notable on his face at times to the family.

“Both. They do not care who wins.” Varys responded.

“They want both to lose. And slowly.” Lord Baelish, better known as Littlefinger interjected. A man who came from nothing and now sat at the Small Council, thanks to Lord Arryn. Aegon never spared much thought for him, but after Jon raised his own concerns, he decided to watch him like a hawk. Jon made the point you never knew what Baelish wanted or where he stood on issues. His sly words and unreadable face let him know at the very least he was dangerous and cunning, but to whom? Dangerous to the Crown or to its enemies? He did not know.

“Thank the Gods the Crown is not in their debt.” The Hand, Lord Jon Arryn pointed out. “What of the whispers of Euron Greyjoy attacking ships near the Jade Gates?”

“He must have sailed on for we have heard nothing further.” Varys responded. _Was that the truth or does the Spider only let us know what he wants us to know? No. If Varys wanted to end his family’s rule, there were plenty of chances for him to do so._

“It matters not. As long as the he stays away from Westeros, it shouldn’t concern us. It is Qarth’s problem, if he is even there. Lord Stannis, what of the so-called Sparrows? Have they been caught?”

“They were placed in cells this morning to await your judgement. Hang them and be done with it. If any remain and they attack again, we can place their heads on spikes.” Lord Stannis was not one for mercy and was definitely a battle-hardened warrior who commanded respect from his men and fear from his enemies. Stannis should be the Lord of Storm’s End in Aegon’s eyes. Robert may have had his warhammer and legendary fighting skills, but the past was past. Now he drinks and whores himself to a likely early grave.

“They killed two whores, correct?” His father asked Stannis who nodded his head to confirm the charges. “Have Ser Ilyn bring his sword and end the matter later.”

Maester Pycelle then spoke up. Aegon hated his presence. When he saw Pycelle, all he could see was Tywin Lannister’s creature. The old man always spoke a little too favorably of House Lannister and the loyalty they had given to House Targaryen. His father had always told him not to trust the Grand Maester and he only kept him in his position to appease the Citadel who favored him for unknown reasons. “My King, a raven from Castle Black. Lord Mormont sends word of more frequent wildling attacks south of the Wall. Even whispers of a Nights Watch deserter gathering forces and declaring himself King Beyond the Wall.”

Rhaegar then turned to Jon, “What do you know of this King Beyond the Wall?”

Jon looked around the table, appearing uncomfortable as the center of attention. “Mance Rayder. He was once a man of the Watch. The brothers at Castle Black, those that heard of him say he was a solid ranger. I never met anyone who knew him. He served at the Shadow Tower when he was part of the Watch. I do know if he gathers all the wildlings together, he will make it past the Wall. The Watch does not have enough men and three castles are not enough to protect the North.”

“Call the banners my King! We could use a good fight. All the scheming and backstabbing here in the South. War would solve that.” Robert Baratheon lent his opinion. Advice he thought foolish, but Aegon could barely hide his chuckle. Baratheon may be a poor Lord and husband, but he was a funny character.

“War to build unity? No. If the time comes, I will bring forces to aid the Starks to defend the North, but for now we must trust the Nights Watch. Stannis, see to it more lords make an effort to send their criminals to the Watch and not just execute them.”

“Son, is it likely this Mance Rayder unites the wildlings and marches south?”

Jon was silent for a moment in what appeared to be deep thought. “Lord Commander Mormont or Uncle Aemon would know better than I, but I find it unlikely he can unite them all. The different clans are always fighting each other. They have no common cause at the moment to unite them. I would keep an eye on ravens from Castle Black in order to prepare for the worst.”

“With that, we can conclude this meeting. Aegon, Jon, I expect to see both of you at supper.”

 

As he opened the door to his chambers, Aegon noticed a flickering light illuminating the walls near his bedroom and soon his nose had picked up the scent of the stranger in his room. He was tired and a bit drunk from the Dornish red he consumed with his brother and cousin Quentyn after supper with his family. She smelled like the gardens, like the red roses and lily flowers she loved so much. As he made his way to his bed, a nude Rhaenys lay waiting for him. He had thought to retire for the night but found new life in himself. “I have been waiting.”

“And I am sorry for that my Princess. If I had known I would have been here.” Aegon removed his clothes quickly and pinned Rhaenys below him on the bed. “I would have been here,” as he began leaving marks down her neck to her large breasts, “worshipping as I am now.” After lavishing on her breasts for a long time like he always did, he went straight to it and began to move his cock along her wet lips before sheathing himself to the hilt. Almost as soon as they started, Aegon was thrusting into her at pace he would not be able to maintain for much longer without spilling. The room had filled with sounds of their flesh meeting and Rhaenys not containing her pleasure. She had been loud when they first started in Dorne and she did poorly at holding her screams in King’s Landing. Aegon told himself it’s a good thing their rooms were so vast and the thick walls of the Red Keep kept them from being discovered.

“Egg…Egg…Oh Gods…” She was repeating as her body clenched his cock until he finally couldn’t stop himself and gave her his seed knowing she would drink her moon tea to prevent a potential crisis. “That was great as usual.” She whispered, nearly out of breadth. Aegon knew everyone saw him as the charismatic future ruler who seemed to enjoy life and women. Little did they know, Rhaenys was the only woman for him and he did not bed any woman he wished. Secretly, he couldn’t wait for marriage and even children. He had discussed it with Rhaenys but she was a bit more hesitant on the subject. She knew their mother struggled with her pregnancies and feared it would be the same for herself. It wasn’t that she disliked children, but she told him she did not wish for many nor having them in the near future.

Before he had much time to recover, she had her gorgeous lips around his cock. The moment he was completely hard again, she guided him into her and slowly rolled her hips. She slowly brought one hand to her breast and pinched her nipple while his thumb worked the other. Soon her other hand was slowly working her mound as she continued to roll her hips.  “Don’t stop” he managed to get out.

As soon as Rhaenys was climaxing again and reaching her peak, he decided he needed to take charge again. With his hands kneading her ass, he lifted her up and flipped her on her back. As he raised his hand to grip her long hair that he loved so much, he captured her lips. While their tongues set to battle each other, he finished in her before collapsing upon her as his arms grew tired and gave out. “I love you.” He whispered into her ear.

“I love you too.” He took her in for another long kiss and rolled over in the bed next to her. “I’ve been thinking…” and at that he knew she was going to bring up a conversation he would not like.

“Why do I feel like I am not going to be happy with what you are about to say?”

“When the time comes and father knows about us, I am willing to compromise. If he insists on you marrying another, I will accept it, given I marry you first and provide the heir.” She spoke these words but her voice told him she didn’t necessarily believe what she was saying.

“Nonsense! You will be my Queen and that is the end of it.” _Why did she bring this up now?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do not expect updates this frequently.  
> 19 chapters are basically complete and I currently have another 20 outlined after that. (Some could be eliminated while others could be broken up due to long scenes)
> 
> I am currently hesitant to add new relationship tags because they could give away future plot points because relationships and/or characters are not present or together in story yet. 
> 
> Again, I welcome criticism of plot holes or writing errors. Also welcome any questions about characters or any parts of story you are confused about or question.


	3. Summerhall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Relationship Tag clarification: Jon/Dany are together to the end and nothing or anyone will come between them/break their bond. All current rel. tags will not have turmoil/betrayal. Only way a relationship tag will not last is if a character dies. There will be another multi-pairing. It could be obvious or it may not be. There will be a twist to a multi-pairing that shouldn't be obvious until later. 
> 
> There will be tags added in the future but there won't be many. This fic is heavily focused on House Targaryen. I do not want readers looking for certain tags to be reading and not see the relationship occur for many chapters. For example: I have planned relationships for Arianne and Sansa but it will not happen for some time and unsure of how much content will focus on them.
> 
> As for this chapter, Jon/Dany fans should love this if I have done a half decent job writing their plot.

**Daenerys Targaryen**

It was a sight to behold. Her mother had always spoken of how beautiful Summerhall was and now that she was seeing it for the first time, all she could think about was her dream of a future here. They left King’s Landing nearly a sennight ago and now their procession was making its way into the main yard of the castle. When she dismounted her horse, she walked up next to Jon and he looked at her with eyes full of shock. Her brother then walked up and placed his hand on Jon’s shoulder.

“This will be your keep to rule one day. It will be yours and your children’s after you.” Her brother held a smile on his face that was a rare sight. She could barely contain her joy, she was imagining it now. Her children running through the gardens here, past the pink marble stone walls and columns, around the water fountains, and down to the lakeshore. Children with his raven hair and her eyes. Other children with her Targaryen silver hair and his grey eyes.

Where the Red Keep was tall and imposing within a city resting on the coast of Blackwater Bay, Summerhall was an expansive castle with fewer fortifications but holding more beauty in its appearance and design. Rhaegar walked ahead of the family showing Jon around the castle. When they walked into the first great room, Daenerys was impressed how it was already furnished and ready for people to live in. Whoever made the decisions on the interior impressed her because there was little she would change.

“The Bastard Prince gets all of this? If father was still here…” Before her brother Viserys could finish his words, his mother struck him hard across the face. Daenerys was grateful because if her mother hadn’t, she would. It also came as a surprise because her mother was the kindest person she knew and it felt out of place seeing her strike someone.

“Don’t let me ever hear you say such things about my grandchildren ever again. And if I ever hear you speak in a way that disrespects Queen Lyanna, you will be answering to the King and not me.” Rhaella said with a chill in her voice as she made sure no one saw the scene before them. Viserys stormed off with a look of shock and disgust, cursing to himself. “Sometimes he scares me. He still holds too much affection for Aerys. I am glad you never knew him.” Daenerys did not know what to say at that and her mother guided her so they could catch up with the rest of their family.

After receiving a tour of countless rooms, they had finally made it to the Prince of Summerhall’s chambers. Daenerys made sure to take note of the layout and began to plot where she would place what. They made it out onto the terrace that presented a great view of the large lake next to Summerhall and the foothills of the Red Mountains next to it. They may be called the Red Mountains but all she could she was green. They came to admire the view besides Visenya, Lyanna, Rhaenys, Elia, Ashara, and Allyria.

“Whomever your brother marries will be a lucky lady. Waking up to a view like this.” Lyanna said to Visenya as she gazed upon the calm waters of the lake below. Daenerys smiled at that comment and Visenya held a look of sadness and tried to avoid eye contact with her as she walked back inside. Daenerys knew Visenya adored Jon and liked to do everything he did. It would be hard when he would leave her and she would have to go marry some lord far away.

“We really had the coin to rebuild this?” Jon asked father while walking up to them with Aegon.

“Yes, do not worry about it. We have been wise with our money and our family’s business interests have prospered. I think we shall build another castle for the family in the North. I had thought about the land north of Long Lake, near the Kingsroad.” Rhaegar stated as Lyanna and Elia came to stand next to him.

“Its rather cold up there you know?” Lyanna said. “And another castle? What is next? A castle in Dorne along the Summer Sea?”

“I like the sound of that.” Elia said. Yes, she would. Everything north of Dorne must feel cold to her Daenerys thought.

“Why not? Our family will grow and I want our future grandchildren to be happy. And on that note, I would like everyone here… Visenya, get over here.” Once Visenya walked back over to them, Rhaegar continued, “I plan to hold a great tourney in King’s Landing next year that shall be attended by many great lords and ladies. I hope to find suitable matches for you or at least hear out some of the lords.”

Daenerys could feel the dread spread across her face as she locked eyes with Jon trying to imagine how they could convince Rhaegar of allowing them to marry. Members of the Faith would hate it and many great lords who wish their daughters to have sons with a Targaryen prince would detest such a match.

“That means you too, my sweet daughter.” Ashara said to Allyria who looked less than pleased.

One by one, her family started to leave the terrace in search of their rooms or moving on to discover more of the rebuilt castle. Eventually, she was alone with Jon. They looked back towards his chambers to make sure no one was watching before he brought her in for a long kiss, depriving her of air to breathe. With his brow resting on hers, he whispered, “What do you think about all of this? Absurd isn’t it?”

“Not at all. This is our home. The home our children will grow up in. I want to watch them from here as they play in the water, run around the grass, and chase each other through the halls.” Daenerys looked into Jon’s eyes and knew she would never get tired of losing herself in them.

“And just how many children do you plan on us having?”

“A dozen.” She responded confidently.

“A dozen? Are you mad?” Jon had a look of disbelief.

“No. Good Queen Alysanne had thirteen.” Alysanne had always been her favorite to read about with Visenya.

“Twelve children. If that is what you want, I guess I couldn’t deny you.” No, he could not and she knew that. He never said no to her. Daenerys could not remember a time when Jon had not done something she asked of him, even when they were small children.

 

 

Summerhall was beginning to truly feel like home, or at least a place that would be home in the future. She was riding through the woods as fast as her mount would take her. They had been there a fortnight now and Daenerys had familiarized herself with the surrounding land. She turned back to see if Jon was keeping up with her. They had been riding and racing their horses with Jon’s siblings and Allyria until distant storm clouds started to make their way across the sky. While everyone decided to take cover for now to avoid getting poured on by a storm, she and Jon kept riding.

Just as she thought she had lost him, she saw him making his way up to her on his large, black destrier. “We need to take cover under the trees.” Daenerys had already felt the raindrops hitting her face and didn’t mind it, but now the light rain shower was increasing its downpour. She pulled her mare to the right and leapt off her horse in order to pull it off the path. Glancing down the hill, she could see the rain disturbing the previously calm lake through the trees. “Leave the horses here. I have an idea.”

Jon tied his horse to a tree next to hers and began to follow her down towards the water. She looked around to make sure no one was around them and began to remove her clothes until she was down to her smallclothes before Jon pulled on her wrist. “What are you doing?” he pleaded with a nervous look like they would be caught.

“Going for a swim. And you’re coming with me.” Once she removed her smallclothes, she saw him gawking like he had never seen her before and quickly removed his clothes without saying anything. As soon as she was out of the cover of the tree line, Daenerys made her way onto a large rock some five feet above the water and dove into the lake. When she surfaced, Jon was diving in behind her. Emerging from his dive, Daenerys pulled his body into hers. The lake was warm but the rainfall chilled her. She needed his warmth.

“I seem to recall someone saying I would be the one to get us caught. Something about recklessness and being seen out in the open.” He was right and she did not care. She ran her hands through his wet hair as his hands found her ass. Capturing his lips, Daenerys moaned into his mouth as his hands explored her body and his teeth bit her bottom lip as if this was their first time.

With his hardness rubbing against her inner thighs and along her cunt, she thought about it and decided she no longer wished to be a maiden. “Jon.” He kept kissing along her jawline and along her neck until she finally grabbed both sides of his face to get his attention. “Make love to me. Tonight. I do not wish to wait any longer.”

“And if my father doesn’t let us marry? I do not wish to dishonor you.”

“You wouldn’t be dishonoring me and we will be married. He can never say no to his baby sister. Tonight, you shall claim me as yours and you will be mine.” Almost before she could finish her words, there tongues were battling again. She could barely contain her excitement for their plans they conjured for tonight.

 

 

 

**Visenya Targaryen**

“Where are they?” Visenya’s haired was drenched and sticking to her face. She felt miserable and cold with her clothes wet in the rain. Following the tracks like her brother had taught her in the North, at least for hunting game. The rain had made it harder and now she felt like she had lost them until she heard horses off the path. Urging her mare on, Visenya found Jon and Dany’s horses tied up to trees. “I guess they wanted to get cover from the storm.” She muttered to herself.

As she walked through the maze of trees down the hill, she almost yelled for them until she heard Daenerys screaming. _No that isn’t a scream._ Daenerys was giggling and laughing more than Visenya had ever heard her. Then she felt her body freeze and her heart almost jumped out of her chest. Daenerys was completely nude and Jon was giving her body all kinds of attention. How she had dreamed of Jon treating her. As Dany stepped to the side to gather her clothes from the ground next to a tree, Jon’s nude form captured her attention. He looked as she imagined but now, she felt horrible.

Visenya turned quickly and rushed for her horse, spurning it on rush back to Summerhall. Cursing herself, Visenya called herself a fool. Why did she go after them? She did not want to spy or get between them. How could she know they would do that?

The ride was long and miserable. Visenya brought her white mare to the stables and left for her room immediately. She ran through the hallways and up the steps of the castle to her room, hoping no one would notice her crying. Finally making it to the hallway outside her chambers, she opened her door thanking the old gods none of her family was around and ran to her bed.

Lying down, with her face in a pillow, she let her emotions pour out. _I am a stupid girl with stupid dreams._ Visenya now felt like she was no different than her young, naïve cousin Sansa. Now she was the one dreaming about a valiant knight or prince she could not be without only for it to be outside her grasp. Her thoughts and sobs were broken by a few knocks at her door.

“Sister open up.” It was Rhaenys. “Open up, we need to talk.”

The moment she opened her door, Rhaenys brought her in for a hug. She did not know until now how much she needed her sister’s support.

“What is the matter? I saw you rushing past my door and heard you crying.” Rhaenys whispered as they sat on her bed and Rhaenys held her hand.

“I’d rather not talk about it.” Visenya mumbled hoping Rhaenys would just stay with her and hold her.

“Is this about Jon and Daenerys?”

“How? I…. How did you…” Visenya was tripping over her words.

“I am your big sister. I know you. I see how you look at our brother. I am sure you caught them together. I thought you knew.” Rhaenys said softly.

“I did. I just hadn’t seen them together like that. They were…. Never mind, it does not matter.” Visenya shook her head.

“Do you hate Dany now?” Rhaenys asked.

“No. I could never hate her. She is our blood. My sister.”

“You know our family’s history. Why not tell Daenerys? She might just share Jon with you?” Rhaenys said with a smirk.

“Why would she? I don’t think I would if I were her. And what if Jon doesn’t find me… appealing? Daenerys is the most beautiful girl in the world.”

“Are you blind Senya? If our brother finds her to be attractive, he certainly finds you attractive. Both of you are Valyrian princesses and men across Westeros would give anything to have you.” Rhaenys then looked down, twisting one of her rings. “I plan on marrying Aegon. He will be my King and I his Queen. If father pushes the issue, I will accept another wife for him.” Visenya gave her a look like she knew that was only half of it. Rhaenys continued, “I will have certain conditions of course. Ask Dany and Jon. Better than never knowing what could have been.”

Her sister stayed with her for a bit longer until her tears had dried and she thanked Rhaenys for the advice. Sitting on the edge of her bed of silken sheets, Visenya went to retrieve a simple grey-silver dress that was light enough to allow her to stay cool in the south while also not revealing as much as her older sister preferred. All she could think about was her sister’s counsel as she slowly moved onto the terrace outside her room. Different voices were battling inside her mind encouraging differing courses of action. Just as soon as she found the courage to confront Jon and Dany, she decided she would wait for a later time.

 

 

 

**Jon Targaryen**

He had finally returned to his room. Jon sat impatiently through dinner with his family feeling like a caged animal that would never see freedom. He was restless and could not wait for being with Daenerys later. When she told him she wished for him to make love to her earlier in the day, his heart felt like it was ready to burst and he could still hear it racing now.

Now, as he sat by himself mentally preparing for his first time, he started to feel the nervousness creep into his bones. He started to think back to all the advice and stories he had heard from his brother, Viserys, and even Theon Greyjoy who he did not always believe. He had to do this right and not embarrass himself. Daenerys’ body was familiar and they had done nearly everything else together, but this was something else altogether that made him anxious.

The sun was beginning to fall and he knew he had time to settle himself down. Instead of pacing back and forth as he was, he decided to lay on his bed and try to find some sleep before finding her room later. As time went on, he called himself a fool for thinking he could find sleep. He was restless and surrendered the hope of calming his nerves.

As the sky turned from a memorable mix of red, pink, and orange to a dark, star filled canvas, Jon waited for what seemed to be hours. When the castle was silent as a crypt, Jon unlatched his door and slowly peered around the corridor outside his chambers. With the stealth of his sister’s old black cat, he quietly ran from shadow to shadow until he had made it to Daenerys’ door. Slowly, he pushed his hand against the door praying it would not creak or make any disturbance that should capture the attention of his family, kingsguard, or servants.

“I was starting to think you weren’t coming and I would have to go to your room.” Daenerys removed herself from her white silken sheets and she was ready for him. She took him in for a deep kiss before he could respond. His hands were wandering all over her naked form and lifted her up off the ground to carry her back to her bed. As he carefully laid her upon her back, he let his eyes wander over her body. “You better get to work, Jon Targaryen.”

“Aye.” She was right. He removed his clothes quicker than he had ever before or at least that is what he thought. He then remembered his brother’s words. _Slow things down. Try not to rush it because it will be over before you know. Start with what you know._ Taking the advice, Jon got on his knees before her and spread her legs. Slowly, he started kissing down both of her thighs before finding her wet folds with his tongue. He gave her his usual attention and mixed things up like he always tried.

“Jon, enough!” She whimpered. “I am ready. I need you inside me.”

At her words, he moved up to capture her lips and let her taste herself on his lips. As they broke apart, his heart felt like it would not stop racing. He took his cock in hand and guided it slowly into her. She was always wet and tight for him, but having his member sheathed in her was something else. He remembered he needed to take it slow. For his sake and hers. He had heard it hurts for girls, their first time.

Gazing into her beautiful eyes, he was reminded how much he loves her and how he would do anything for her. Her eyes were staring back at his and she gave him a reassuring nod signaling for him to keep going. He slowly plunged into her further until cock was fully inside her. Jon started at what felt like too slow of a pace. Daenerys made an unfamiliar face and he stopped, “Are you alright?”

“Yes, keep going.” She didn’t need to tell him twice. Now he was starting to lose control of himself and knew he would finish soon. Hitting her core over and over again, he relished the moment. All the techniques he remembered to last longer did not work. That advice was from other men and they had not been with Daenerys Targaryen. Her perfect face, smooth skin, amethyst eyes, silver hair, soft moans, perfect breasts, soft ass, and wet, hot pussy was too much for him. As he spilled into her, he collapsed onto her. It felt like he lasted forever but he knew it was maybe a few minutes at best.

Jon was about to retreat from her until, she held him closer to her. “No, stay like this for now.” She whispered into his ear as her arms cradled his head with her legs wrapped around his waist. As her fingers caressed his back, he started to take her breast in his mouth and played with the other.

When his member started to soften, he withdrew from her. Feeling a bit guilty she did not reach her full climax, he started to apologize, “Dany, I’m sorry. I…”

Before he could finish, Daenerys cut him off, “Don’t be sorry. That was amazing, lets go again. If you’re ready.”

At her words, he was hard again and entered her to continue their lovemaking.

 

Laying on his back with Daenerys lying on him, in his arms, Jon could not hold back the smile that had been on his face. This was the best night of his life and he would remember it forever. He felt Dany kiss his chest and ghost her nails across his body. “You were quite impressive. Especially when we were going for the third time.” She said as she started to grind her hips into him. He scoffed at the notion. “You were. You are a great lover Jon.”

“I have been your only lover.” He retorted. He knew she was just trying to give him confidence.

“I have heard from those with experience and you shouldn’t question a princess’ judgement.” She said with laughter in her voice. “What matters is we love each other and I plan on getting plenty of practice with you until we grow old together.”

“I like the sound of that.” As her face looked up at his, Jon felt nothing but grateful for having her. “You are so beautiful.” He traced a strand of hair in her face behind her ear and slid his hands down to her ass. He pulled her sweat soaked body along his until her eyes were level with his. “I would do anything for you. You know that right?”

“Yes. And I for you.” She then took him in for a long kiss before settling into the bed to gather needed rest. Not wanting to, Jon withdrew and gathered his clothes from the floor. Following the same path he travelled earlier, he snuck back to his chambers without drawing attention to himself. As soon as he found his bed, sleep took him.

  


 

**Rhaella Targaryen**

Rhaella Targaryen sat opposite her son’s Queens with their breakfast before them. Next to her was an empty seat with Viserys sitting next to it. Jon and Visenya were seated next to Viserys. On the other side of the table sat Ashara, Elia’s children, and Allyria. While she sat happily looking upon her grandchildren’s animated conversations, it occurred to her that their family would feel like something were missing should the Daynes not be there. While they were not their blood, _well at least they didn’t share blood with everyone at the table_ , Rhaella was glad they were treated as such. _It is a good thing Allyria takes after her mother and does not seem to have a trace of her father in her._

“My husband, I think we shall travel to Dragonstone and reside there for some time before returning to King’s Landing.” She heard Elia urge Rhaegar as she placed her hand over his.

“I second that. It is good to be away from court and that terrible place they call a city.” Lyanna blurted out before Rhaegar could object. Rhaella would thank the Gods if she believed in them. She knew when the Queens were of the same mind, they were the ones who made decisions and not her son. Dragonstone seemed a distant memory. That was her home and since Rhaegar’s ascension to the throne, most of her time was spent in King’s Landing besides her daughters few years in Winterfell.

As soon as Daenerys’ absence filled her thoughts, her daughter made her way into the dining area to take the seat next to her. _What is she smiling about? She is practically glowing._ “You are late.”

“Sorry mother. I was held up arranging my wardrobe. It was a mess that needed attending to.” Daenerys lied to her with ease. Rhaella wondered if lying came to her daughter so easily as it appeared and whether her daughter knew she knew.

“You seem to be in a good mood.” Rhaenys said with a cup of wine in hand and a smirk on her face as if she knew some secret.

“It is a beautiful morning and I love it here. I never want to leave.” Her daughter started to pick her food from the platters as she spoke.

“Oh, I am sure.” Rhaella did not pick up on Rhaenys’ hidden messages behind her words. It was something she would reflect on at a later time.

“Father, is it true you are thinking of a royal procession through the North?” Jon shifted the subject almost before Rhaenys was done speaking.

“In a year’s time, perhaps. Winterfell and the North for that matter has not seen a Targaryen king for some time. It will depend on the state of the realm and other considerations, but yes. Your mother wishes to see her nieces and nephews, and I would like to see Uncle Aemon if duty permits.”

“If you go North, I am coming too.” Aegon started. “I want to see what Winterfell is really like after hearing your stories.”

“I would like to go too. I have never been north of Harrenhal.” Allyria added to the conversation.

“You will not. Your place is in King’s Landing with your mother. At least until you marry.” Ashara almost sounded like she couldn’t hold back the anger in her voice. That confirmed Rhaella’s suspicions about the Dornish beauty and her origins.

“I don’t understand. Why shall I not travel North?”

“We shall discuss this matter later.” Ashara instructed her daughter before giving Lyanna a knowing look.

As they broke their fast and various discussions carried on covering politics, family, tourneys, court gossip, or history, Rhaella noticed her youngest grandchild had hardly uttered a word. “Visenya, are you alright sweetling? You have been quiet as a mouse over there.”

Looking up from her plate, “Yes. Yes grandmother. I am fine. Just listening.” Visenya tried to put on a mask but Rhaella knew her granddaughter was sad or just trying to be like Jon who kept to himself at court. But amongst family, even Jon was talkative.

Rhaella thought about the past, present, and future at the sight of her family as they started to leave the table and move out into the gardens to enjoy the bright day. She would cherish these memories and prayed times like these would continue for the world could be a cruel and evil place. She knew firsthand how close her family came to destruction. Had Ser Jaime not accepted her request and put an end to Aerys’ reign, Westeros would have seen war and rebellion. Her family may have lost their power along with their lives. If Lyanna and Rhaegar had not reached out to Eddard Stark and Jon Arryn when they did, her world may look entirely different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some sharp-eyed readers have spotted age differences between characters in this fic and canon sources. Ages in this fic have been intentionally changed. Certain events in the past have also had changes to the year they occurred. I changed Arianne Martell's age for a specific reason semi-essential to her plot.
> 
>  
> 
> If I do not describe the appearance of a character, assume they look as they do in the show unless it is specifically changed in this fic. (or just imagine them as you prefer this is fanfic) For example: Jon is same as show except taller and dark grey eyes, Dany is same as show but violet eyes. Lyanna looks completely different in this fic than her show appearance.
> 
> As for this chapter, I hope you do not think I hate Visenya's character. it is quite the opposite. Her role is central to the story and you will be impressed by her future deeds (I hope).


	4. The King's Tourney

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is. Biggest Chapter yet. Felt like I could have done 25K words on the Tourney but the story needs to move on. World building the Tourney seemed easier than other chapters I have written.

**297 AC**

**Rhaenys Targaryen**

Feeling the cool breeze coming through the windows of her room, Rhaenys awoke to a welcoming sunrise that painted the eastern sky a bright orange. Knowing she would not find sleep again, she slipped out of her damp, silken sheets trying her best not to disturb Aegon. Moving towards the nightgown resting on the back of a chair, she dismissed wearing it considering no one would see her from her balcony. Walking outside to admire the ocean and the open skies, she realized how different the city sounded this morning. It felt more alive. An indication of the city being captured by the largest tourney to be held in the Seven Kingdoms since the infamous Tourney at Harrenhal. Lords and ladies, knights and men at arms, whores and gamblers, farmers and other smallfolk visiting to profit or admire the spectacle. She was sure the inns would be filled and the whores bringing in more coin than their hands may hold. _The King’s Tourney? They should name it Littlefinger’s Tourney._

Even with the sun now in the sky warming her skin, the wind started to gather strength and she took notice as her nipples started to harden just before she felt his warm hands knead them. Smiling as his arms wrapped around her while he kissed the nape of her neck, she leaned into his warmth. His hard member was rubbing against her back and she was now fighting the urge to have him take her right there from behind as she felt heat gather between her legs. “I love this. The tourney. The city coming alive. An overflowing court. You better win this tourney for me.”

“Did I not just make you the Queen of Love and Beauty at the tourney at Storm’s End three moons ago?” He was right but she was greedy and wanted a crown of roses for this tourney would be remembered for a generation.

“Aye, you did. And you were rewarded for your efforts if I remember. Plus, it would bring a smile to my face to see the disappointment on Margaery’s face when you choose me over her.” She didn’t dislike Margaery as much as her voice indicated but she would admit she felt defensive when it came to Aegon.

“Do you want father to be even more suspicious of us? Anyways, I will not make promises. This tourney will be filled with entrants who have actual skill. Loras should be a favorite and Renly shall be begging for a crown of roses.”

She laughed. “You’re terrible. Loras would choose his sister anyways. What of our brother?”

“You know him. _Southern tourneys for southern knights._ He better ask father for Dany’s hand soon. I know Quentyn is after her and uncle Doran will try to leverage all he has to secure it. The past two nights our cousin has badgered me to exert some influence on the matter. And the amount of time Tywin has already spent with father, I am sure Myrcella will be promised our brother.”

“Curse the Lannisters and Baratheons. Jon will have to wait years for her to come of age. Him and Dany are meant for each other.” Rhaenys could feel her blood heat with rage.

“Who shall our sister be given away to?”

“I want her to be happy. If Jon and Dany were receptive, I would wish for her to ride off in the night and live with them at Summerhall.” _But that is not the world we live in._ Rhaenys turned around and grabbed Aegon’s member. “Now get back in that bed with me and show me how much you love me.” As she walked away, he smacked her ass and chased her to the bed, pouncing on her to meet her needs.

 

 

**Lyanna Stark**

“Don’t stop. Keep going.” Elia whimpered with her seductive Dornish accent that Lyanna learned to love. Lyanna was struggling to continue herself, as she was fighting to catch her breath as she lapped Elia’s lower lips. She focused on the task at hand and dug her nails deepen into Elia’s olive skin thighs. Lyanna was now moaning herself as Rhaegar was behind her, filling her to the hilt from behind at an unsustainable pace. His hands gripped her ass as his hips slapping against her skin filled the room when her moans were not.

“My Queens.” Rhaegar growled out. He then slapped her ass multiple times before reaching an arm below her chest and pulling her up flush against him. This earned a scornful face from Elia as Rhaegar kept pounding into her as he held her close. Finally finishing, filling her womb with his seed, Lyanna let out several screams but she could not say what she screamed.

“That’s it my King? I was expecting more.” She was again on her knees, this time face to face with Elia, capturing her sweet, thin lips that tasted like the finest Dornish red. When her antagonizing did not bring out the dragon in him, Lyanna shook her ass from side to side trying to coax a response. Slowly, Rhaegar moved his hand along her cheeks before finding her rosebud and she felt him applying oil to her entrance. The three of them were always adventurous in the bed but this was not a common occurrence so she was now very anxious.

Slowly, he entered her and she felt a wave of pain then slowly a feeling of ecstasy. “Oh gods. My shewolf is so tight for me.” After he whispered those words, he quickened his pace and held her hair as she had collapsed onto Elia’s chest. She was losing control and uncontrollably screamed with her husband’s name on her lips.

As he slowly slipped out of her, she rolled over next to Elia as Rhaegar sought entrance to his other wife’s cunt. With her heart beating out of her chest, Lyanna laid there admiring the sight before her through her hood eyes. She admired her husband’s endurance for it seemed to not dissipate over the years. As she gathered herself, she slowly got up from her spot on the bed. Rhaegar now had Elia on her knees and slid into her folds from behind. Lyanna made her way behind Rhaegar and slapped his ass as he drove into Elia with fury. She always liked to push him to go faster. She rested her head against her husband’s sculpted back and peppered it with kisses as Elia came undone and Rhaegar finished.

Lyanna stood from the bed and slowly walked over to their Arbor gold on the other side of their room to gather cups for them all. Turning around to face the bed, the sight of her husband and Elia laying in bed together exhausted brought her some feeling of satisfaction. “Here, the Redwynes send their regards.” Handing the cups to her bedmates, Lyanna sat to Rhaegar’s left, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Could you believe Cersei? Already speaking as if Jon were to marry her daughter.”

“He will marry her.” Lyanna pulled the cup of wine from her lips and she gave her husband a glare that could kill. She was going to explode but Rhaegar stopped her. “That marriage would appease Tywin and keep the Stormlands in line. That should definitely be helpful for a Prince of Summerhall. He may have to wait some years and, in that time, he can enjoy all the world has to offer.” Did he even know his own son or were the words more for his own sake? A lie to himself.

“What of Egg and Rhae?” Elia spoke up as she placed her cup on the stand next to her side of the bed.

“I think we should accept Olenna’s offer. Margaery is a beauty and should please our son.”

“No.” Elia protested. “Rhaenys should be queen! They love each other. I can tell despite their best efforts to hide it.” Lyanna could not argue that. It also helped Ellaria Sand, Prince Oberyn Martell’s paramour has a big mouth and gave away Egg and Rhae’s secret romance. “I don’t trust the Tyrells. They are power hungry and manipulative. Margaery will have her hooks in her children and the Tyrell’s will control the Iron Throne. We may have embraced the name Targaryen, but Margaery? No. I doubt that very much.”

“At least you’re not punishing Rhaenys with a betrothal to Edmure Tully. He needs to get a wife already.” Lyanna had heard Hoster’s offer and scoffed at the thought of such a union. Rhaenys would sooner join the Silent Sisters she thought.

“Elia, my sweet wife, all of Dorne mistrusts House Tyrell but I have to admit however clouded your judgement may be, it does not mean you are wrong. I will see if we can manage to see our children marry each other.” Lyanna understood what that meant. Bribing the High Septon, or at the very least holding his private exploits over his neck. It also meant appeasing the great houses. Stark and Martell would not object. Much to her chagrin, Lannister and Baratheon were getting what they wanted. Arryn and Tully could be kept in line by her brother along with Jon Arryn being appeased as Hand of the King. That left House Tyrell. One house angry for a period of time was not favorable but also not the end of the world in her eyes. “Should I fail to see a safe path to Aegon and Rhaenys’ marriage, perhaps she could marry Robb Stark.”

 _Catelyn Stark, my good-sister, will be pleased._ “And Visenya?” Lyanna feared the answer that may follow.

“I do not know yet. We can wait. She is young and we have time to find her the perfect match. My brother and sister need to marry soon as well.” Rhaegar turned to kiss her, then Elia. “Its time we get ready. We have a long day ahead of us and two more to follow.”

Lyanna delayed for several moments to collect her thoughts and prepare herself for all the ladies she would have to treat with. As she watched Elia walk over to her wardrobe, Lyanna laughed at where her life was now. Never in her childhood did she think she would become a Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, taking on the name Targaryen, and sharing her husband with another woman. While she had always loved Rhaegar since the moment they met, she was resistant to the idea of sharing a bed with Elia. All these years later and she could not think of not having both of them in her life. Lyanna soon followed Elia’s path and started to look at her dresses to consider her options.

As Lyanna slid her hands through an assortment of blue dresses, one of the maids who unbeknownst to her had started to prepare tubs with hot water. Their maids began to attend to their needs and helped prepare their hair for the day. Eventually returning to their wardrobe, she pointed to a red and black dress for the maids to help her wear. She needed to wear her house colors and send a signal to the lords of the realm that she was a Targaryen queen.

Finally placing her rings and other jewelry on, Lyanna walked towards their door with Elia. Once outside their chambers, she noticed Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell waiting for them. “Your Graces.” Arthur said with a bow. “The King has already left for a Small Council meeting he said would be brief.”

“Good. We shall wait for him then before taking a wheelhouse to the tourney grounds.” Lyanna then turned down the corridor hoping this tourney would just be entertainment and not some political disaster.

 

 

**Visenya Targaryen**

Riding through King’s Landing was quite the event on this day. The streets were lined with smallfolk attempting to get a glance at any of the knights, lords, or members of her family riding towards the Lion’s Gate out towards the tourney grounds. Hearing people cheer her name, her sister’s name, her brother’s, Dany, even Viserys, and her grandmother never seemed normal to her. The loudest cheers were of course saved for her father and his queens. The people of King’s Landing loved her father, at least for now after he had instituted several initiatives that saw to an improvement of the living conditions of the poor. While her mother and Elia were stuck riding in the wheelhouse with her grandmother, everyone else rode atop their destriers and mares through the relatively clean streets. _My mother must hate this. She loved riding and being trapped inside that box will drive her to madness._

The procession was slow through the city but they made quick time between the Lion’s Gate and the tourney grounds that sat somewhat near the Blackwater Rush. The tents surrounding the grounds nearly made up a city themselves. She used to think tourneys were for knights playing at war and something for southerners because Jon had a distaste for them and never attended. Now she could not deny she enjoyed watching the joust and melee. She loved the smell of smoked pork, cooked bacon, and burning fires in the camp. As they rode through, all of the sigils on the banners let her know the entire realm was here. To her left, she saw the three black leopards of House Vaith, the portcullis sable of House Yronwood, the white sword and falling star of House Dayne, _she would have to cheer them on_ , the white tower of House Hightower, the red fox surrounded by blue flowers of House Florent, and three oak leaves of House Oakheart. To her right she saw black and white boar of House Crakehall, the green arrow of House Sarsfield, the orange burning tree of House Marbrand, a portcullis over a crescent moon of House Royce, three ravens of House Corbray, and the yellow tower of House Grafton.

With the wooden structure of the jousting arena in sight, most of the knights and lords with tents near it were from the Riverlands and Crownlands. She saw the banners of Houses Mallister, Bracken, Whent, Smallwood, Darry, Blackwood, Velaryon, Stokeworth, and Rosby. She even noticed the merman banner fluttering in the distance and that warmed her heart at least one northern house made it to the tourney. Finally reaching the royal tent heavily guarded by their household guard, Visenya dismounted her white mare. Looking around, she saw her family escorted by the Kingsgaurd making their way for the tent. She decided to walk towards the stairs that led up to the royal box overseeing the jousts. She hoped to find some of the knights preparing for the grounds they would soon ride on. Turning up the stairs, she accidently ran right into Joffrey Baratheon walking over from a nearby section. “Excuse me, I wasn’t paying attention.”

As she moved to walk past him, she felt his hand grab her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. “Princess Visenya”, he said with an arrogance painted on his face, “My mother says I should be marrying in a few years. Perhaps I shall have you and make you the Lady of Storm’s End.” _He is delusional if he thinks I would ever marry him. This little shit is always disrespectful and acts as if he is the royal and not I._

“Remove your hand. If you presume to touch me again…” Before she could finish her words, Joffrey pulled on her wrist even tighter.

“I will be the Lord of the Stormlands and do as I please. You will be mine one day and know your place.”

At that threat, Visenya lost control and balled her right hand into a fist before hitting him square on the eye. As he fell to the ground, Visenya walked back to the stairs. She paused before descending and turned to Joffrey, “Ever presume to talk to me or touch me like that again, and I’ll have my brother kill you.” She calmly walked back to her family’s tent with the confidence that Jon really would kill him if he were witness to this and she asked it of him.

“I hope our brother enjoys himself. Moping and brooding on the ramparts while we enjoy this fine wine, roasted boar, and the grandest tourney in our lifetime.” Aegon said as he waved his cup around before Rhaenys took it out of his hand.

“You aren’t going to win getting into your cups this early.” Rhaenys spoke as a wife ordering her husband around.

“Viserys, will you enter the joust or melee?” Visenya asked, but soon regretted such a stupid question.

“No. I rather not have the Mountain run his lance through me. Plus, I have some matters than need attending.” Viserys responded giving her a look like she was a simpleton. _As if he could make it far enough to face the Mountain._

Visenya turned around at the sound of horns blasting behind them. “Its time we make our way to the royal seats.” Her father spoke before turning to Aegon and placing a hand on his shoulder, “Good luck in the joust today. Make our house proud.”

“I will father.” Aegon responded with the same confidence of a Crown Prince and future King he always carried.

 

They were well into the tourney and it was certainly entertaining. Almost every knight who came before them promised to win the tourney in her honor or her sister’s or Daenerys’. There were many fine riders and there were many bad who had no place here. From her perspective, it would come down to Gregor Clegane, Loras Tyrell, Gerold Dayne, and Aegon. None had promised to crown her the Queen of Love and Beauty but that did not matter to her. She dreamed of Jon winning the tourney in black Targaryen armor with a red cape upon a great black destrier. Visenya knew this would not come to be for Jon would never participate and if he did, Daenerys would be his Queen. She felt happy for Dany but it still hurt that her brother did not know or share her feelings.

She and Daenerys had made their way to the melee for a brief period of time to grace it with a royal presence so it was not completely ignored. Jousting held the prestige and that seemed absurd to Visenya considering she admired talent in what could be considered as close to real combat. She cursed her brother for not at least entering the melee. _He would trounce these men. Only Ser Arthur could defeat him but his days entering tourneys were gone._

Feeling she had her fill of action and excitement for the day, Visenya looked to Daenerys, eyes pleading with her to leave with her. “Let us stay a little longer.” Daenerys said with a smile. Visenya found Daenerys to be a far better Princess than herself. Dany never had a problem with court or long events that she was expected to put on a show of regality. Her eyes turned back to the joust and she saw Amory Lorch upon his horse preparing to ride against his opponent. A mystery knight with a simple black banner with no sigil. While interesting, this mystery knight will likely be defeated soundly. As the two riders urged their horses on, the mystery knight looked to ride well. Before she knew what happened, a lance was shattered upon impact of Lorch’s chest close to his neck sending him falling off his horse. _Good on this knight._ Lorch always seemed unpleasant to her the couple times she encountered him. The crowd was sent into a frenzy as some cheered and others voiced great displeasure. It was the most surprising result of the day and Visenya thought she might wish for this knight to win the tourney, unless of course he faced Aegon. She kept her eyes on the knight as he rode away on his deep brown horse in his dark grey armor that reminded her of the stone that made up Dragonstone.

“That knight rides well. He should be a favorite for any who truly pay attention.” Her father remarked behind her. Visenya thought the mystery knight rode well but she also knew her father held a special affinity for mystery knights. She glanced back at her mother who could not contain a bright smile.

To her right she noticed Aegon leaning over a railing, making bets on the next tilt with Lord Baelish and Renly Baratheon. She never understood why anyone would make a bet with Littlefinger. He was never one to lose money and she figured any bet he made, he must have some secret knowledge that others do not for why would he risk his coin?

“I am going for a ride along the river. Care to join me before the feast?” Daenerys asked her while standing up.

“I am right behind you. Father. Mother.” She nodded to her parents before quickly catching up to Daenerys.

Visenya and Daenerys mounted their mares and rode for the Blackwater Rush as fast they could side saddle due to the dresses they wore. Ser Barristan and two other guards were not far behind them. Reaching the banks of the river in mere minutes, they slowed their mares to admire the nature around them.

Making sure Barristan was a safe distance away so he could not pick up on their conversation, Visenya halted her horse and turned to Daenerys, “Dany, can we talk?”

“Yes, what is it?” Daenerys had a look of concern like she always had. Visenya hoped she could keep her courage and push through with her confession.

As they both dismounted and went to sit on a nearby rock, Visenya started, “I know. I…I know about you and Jon.”

Daenerys’ face turned flush and her violet eyes grew big. “We… I… How did you know?”

Visenya looked down at her fumbling hands. “I see the way you look at each other. And I have seen Jon sneak into your room at night. And I saw…I saw you two at Summerhall, in the lake, that day it rained so heavily. I didn’t mean to spy. I was just looking for you and I…I…” She was at a loss for words and did not know what else to say.

“Have you told anyone else?” Daenerys had a panicked look that Visenya had rarely seen.

“No. Well Rhaenys knows. I didn’t tell. She already knew and knew I knew.” Twisting her ruby ring in a silver band, Visenya finally looked Daenerys in the face. “I hope you don’t get mad at me. I have something else to confess. You are like a sister to me and my best friend.”

“I could never be mad at you. You are starting to scare me.” Daenerys said with genuine concern in her voice.

“I…I love Jon. I am in love with Jon.” Visenya could feel the tears fill her eyes and roll down her cheeks as she said the words. “I know you two are together and he loves you and …”

Daenerys brought her in for a tight hug and she felt her hand tracing her back. “How long have you felt this way?” Daenerys sounded like she now had a lump in her throat.

“Since we left Winterfell. Sometime before. I don’t know. Maybe even further back. Rhaenys said I should tell you. I know you and Jon plan to marry.” _I shouldn’t be asking this of her. This feels like betrayal. Betrayal of a sister. Betrayal of a friend._ “I shouldn’t ask it of you and …”

“You wish to marry Jon?” Daenerys said with dread or what she thought sounded like dread.

“After you do. With your approval and his. Only if you truly were accepting of it. Only if it worked like my father, mother, and Elia do together.” Visenya managed to close her mouth for fear of saying anything that could further ruin this.

Daenerys reached down placing her hand over Visenya’s. “I am happy you told me. I want to think about it. I never considered sharing Jon with anyone.” Daenerys looked to her own feet and then out onto the river. “Let us ride back for the feast and enjoy ourselves. If I come around to this, I will speak to Jon and let you know.” Visenya could not read her best friend’s face. _It looks like she is sparing some thought to my proposal. Or maybe I am a fool whose vision is clouded by hope. I do not know._

 

They had travelled further east along the river than she had thought. The sun was already falling in the west, painting a gorgeous pink sky as they came upon the grand tent next to the Blackwater Rush. The tent was already filled with lords and ladies deep into their cups and filling their appetites with countless courses. Visenya and Daenerys slowly made their way to the dais with all of their family there. By Visenya’s count, there must be over one hundred people present for the feast. “Where have you been all day? We thought you would watch the jousts with us.” Daenerys directed towards Allyria as they came upon her and Rhaenys.

“Mother and I spent the day with my cousins. Gerold rode well today and is a favorite for the tourney. We wanted to support him. I didn’t realize how much I missed everyone. It has been sometime since I have visited Starfall.” Allyria said with a bright smile. Visenya was sure she would get many suitors considering she was just as beautiful as her mother and the low-cut purple dress she wore left little to the imagination. Lords of the Crownlands and Westerlands may stick their nose up at the Dornish but one glimpse of Allyria and they would likely be on their knees begging for her hand in marriage.

“Jon finally graced us with his brooding.” Rhaenys turned to look back at their brother after she said his name. Turning back to them with her usual cup in hand, she continued, “You two must come with us and meet my cousins Tyene and Nymeria, my uncle Oberyn’s daughters. There they are, next to Arianne.” Rhaenys pointed at two olive skinned Dornishwomen. The younger one was shorter than her sister and far more beautiful with hair as black as dragonglass and eyes that could tempt any man. The taller Sand also possessed dark hair and was more to look at than your average woman. Visenya had heard of these sisters and knew not to underestimate how dangerous they were. Trained by the Red Viper in fighting and the art of poison, or so it was rumored.

“I think I will break my fast before I start entertaining all these people.” Visenya felt no rush to listen to the typical court gossip that is discussed at these events.

“Dany, you must come meet my cousins at least. I think they will like you. Before the night ends, be sure to remind me to introduce you to the Hightower and Florent girls. You will find them amusing.” Rhaenys couldn’t hide her low opinion of these girls. They must either be dense or harlots that would do anything to be with a Prince or some future lord of one of the great houses.

The moment Visenya stepped towards the dais, she saw Samwell Tarly leaving her brother’s side. He was one of the kindest people she knew and a good friend of her brother. Those who did not know Jon would think it an odd friendship. He and Sam were about as different as two people could be. One spent his days reading books, the other training with the sword, one as large as one could be, the other slim and strong, and one met with contempt by his father while the other a Prince who made his father proud. But Visenya knew they were two sides of the same coin. As she took the seat next to Jon, she saw Daenerys look back at her with a suspicious look before meeting the Sand Snakes. _Oh no! Does she think I am trying to steal Jon from her now?_

“How was the tourney today? I know you enjoy it despite your best efforts to deny it. Aegon told me his opponents were not a challenge.” Jon interrupted her thoughts.

“It was entertaining in the morning. Just to be around the tourney grounds, seeing knights from six kingdoms, smelling the roasted pork, and seeing some action. This city does get rather dull over time without a change of scenery.” Her mind was going through the day’s events trying to remember any events worth mentioning. “Oh, I almost forgot. The jousts were straight forward until a mystery knight rode forward and knocked Amory Lorch out of his saddle.”

“Amory Lorch knocked on his ass. Now I wish I had seen that.” Jon said with a smirk before bringing his horn of ale to his lips. His smirk soon disappeared as put down his ale and he lightly place his hand on her arm. “What is this?” She gave him a funny look until she looked down and saw the bruise that had formed from Joffrey earlier in the day.

“It is nothing. I probably just got it from being clumsy or from sparring with you.” She knew her lie was unconvincing. _Hopefully he drops this. I do not wish to be the cause of conflict between the Dragons and Stags._

“Don’t lie to me Visenya. Who did this to you?” Jon’s grey eyes were piercing through her soul and she felt like he would not let this go.

“It was Joffrey Baratheon. Please don’t make a scene.” She placed a hand on his arm trying to calm him. “He told me I would be his and wouldn’t let go. I hit him in the face. I think his eye is blackened now. I heard Lady Cersei saying someone attacked her son. I didn’t want anyone to know and cause trouble for father.” Jon sat up and she had never seen him this furious. “Stop. Don’t do something foolish. I am your sister. Listen to me.”

“That is exactly why I should do something. That little shit hurts my sister and only carries a blackened eye from a girl? I should beat him until he is choking on his own blood and unable to move.” While trying to calm him down with his nostrils flaring, Visenya turned and saw her mother giving them a strange look.

“Let us enjoy the feast. If he does it again, I promise to tell you and then you can defend my honor and drive Longclaw into his face.” She was only joking but she secretly feared that is exactly what he would do.

“He really is a cunt. I do not care for his parents either. Robert Baratheon spends too much time in the presence of whores drowning himself in wine. And I hate how he looks at mother.” Jon took his place at the table once calmed.

“It is too bad Lord Stannis is not the older brother. At least Gendry would be the heir.”

“How are my children? Feasts are supposed to be enjoyed and you both look angry enough to kill each other.” Her mother said sitting the open seat to her right.

“We aren’t fighting. Just discussing our day and the tourney.” That earned an unbelieving look from her mother.

“Aegon did well on the first day. Let’s hope he represents our house well and wins the tourney. However, I will admit that I will cheer for the mystery knight. An excellent rider who looked borne to it. And the simple armor he wore? Likely lowborn or a family with little wealth. The forty thousand gold dragons shall certainly change that should he win.” Her mother gave her a look then. “I saw you cheering for him.”

“I did not cheer. I want Aegon to win. And we all know you will always champion the success of a mystery knight mother.”

“Leaving us already?” Her mother looked up at Jon as he left the table.

“Aye. Three nights of feasts are enough for me. And I promised Sam I would share some ale with him and some of the Manderlys.”

“What is upsetting you my sweet daughter? Don’t think I haven’t noticed your mood lately. You worry your father and I. Your brother has always worried me and I see sadness in your eyes all to often.” Her mother then placed a hand across her cheek.

“I am fine mother. What is there to be sad about? I am fine.” Visenya told herself that she needed to get hold of her emotions to avoid her mother’s pestering. _But I can’t. I think of the future and know in my heart it will be a future with little joy._

 

When Visenya found her bed later that night, exhaustion overwhelmed her and she was asleep before she could make her way under her silk sheets. This wasn’t the first time she had dragon dreams or so she believed. _This night she dreamed of a white-grey wolf with amber eyes, Daenerys with tears in her eyes next to Jon, a Valyrian steel blade covered in blood and snow, a large dragon with silver scales, Rhaenys sitting on an unfamiliar throne, and a great firestorm in the snow outside Winterfell._

 

 

**Daenerys Targaryen**

The King’s Tourney was finally coming to its end. After four nights of feasts and two long days of watching the joust and melee, Daenerys felt herself wishing it to be over. That did not mean she did not enjoy herself. She befriended several ladies her age from across Westeros, met some she disliked, and observed her brother rule as the King. The only real things that bothered her about the Tourney were the unwanted dances with Lords at the feasts and not seeing Jon for most of it since he squandered off somewhere. While neither joyous or depressing, what weighed on Daenerys’ mind was Visenya’s admission of love for Jon and a wish to marry him. She was stunned that she had not picked up on the signs of Visenya’s love for Jon before. Now she was filled with conflict. A battle raged in her mind since. _Jon and I were meant for each other. If Visenya were not a sister to me, I would have told her off without a second’s thought._

Now it was nearly three hours past midday and the Tourney was down to its final two riders in the joust. In the morning, the entire royal family attended the last melee to award its champion. Visenya and Lyanna voiced their pride as one of Wyman Manderly’s grandsons won when he faced down a knight from the Riverlands. _Northerners do stick together when they are south of the Neck._ The joust brought even more intrigue. The smallfolk and the highborn alike were entertained. The final day saw the final eight competitors providing a great show. Aegon faced Loras Tyrell for a chance at the final round. Loras was a fine rider and no one questioned his skill even if they snickered at his preference for men. An open secret at court. Aegon proved his superiority with a lance and eventually sent Loras off his horse unharmed. In what turned out to be the greatest spectacle of the last few days, the mystery knight she had grown to admire shattered his lance upon Ser Gregor Clegane’s helm, sending the Mountain from his saddle. _This mystery knight has a knack for sending men off their horses._ Daenerys feared for this mystery knight as Ser Gregor marched towards him with sword in hand until her brother Rhaegar stood from his seat and ordered an end to violence before it began.

Daenerys was saddened that the mystery knight would have to ride against her nephew. She wanted to wish him good fortune and see him victorious, but Daenerys would never go against blood, even in a tourney. As she was making her way to her seat, she heard her mother and brother’s name announced to the crowds who had already filled the stands. Then she heard her name and title announced as she took her seat next to her mother on her left. Visenya came after her, occupying the seat to her right. Looking past Visenya on the other side of the box, she saw Ashara and Allyria sitting, looking as beautiful as ever. Rhaenys was next to be announced and she gracefully made her way to occupy the seat between herself and Allyria. Daenerys couldn’t help but admire Rhaenys’ red, low cut dress that accentuated her large breasts and alluring figure. Daenerys always knew Rhaenys had an eye for fashionable clothing and it did nothing to hide her beauty. _Rhae’s dress reveals more than I prefer, but in this heat, I wish I had something similar._ She was still proud of her own dress, mostly white with some red accents on the waist and shoulders. Like Rhaenys, her dress did not cover her arms, but it did cover her chest.

Seated in the stands to Daenerys’ left, she saw Edmure Tully speaking with his sister, who was an unpleasant woman she preferred to avoid. Clinging to Lysa Arryn’s side was her sickly boy, Robin. It made her feel sorry for Jon Arryn who was an honorable man shackled with a terrible wife and weak heir. Below them sat Littlefinger who was whispering something into Tyrion Lannister’s ear before making some bet with Renly Baratheon. A further row down sat all of the Tyrell’s except Willas who stayed at Highgarden to rule in his father’s stead. _If it could be said Mace Tyrell ruled at all._ Across the stands, she saw Robert Baratheon going on about something with wine in hand as usual. Cersei Lannister looked like she wished to be anywhere else, as long as it was away from her husband. Their son Joffrey sat next to his mother, occasionally glancing in her direction. _What is he angry about? And who gave him the blackened eye?_ She had no doubts he earned it. Beside Joffrey was his little brother who looked to be a sweet boy and his sister Myrcella, who seemed nothing but kind, unlike her mother. Daenerys felt a sliver of guilt as she wished some type of misfortune on the girl if Tywin had his way betrothing her to Jon. Below Robert sat his brother, Stannis, looking serious as ever next to his wife Lady Selyse and their children Gendry and Shireen. She wondered if Stannis had always held a gloomy appearance or had his wife made him that way. In front of the Baratheons, Oberyn Martell and his daughters were in animated conversation about something with Arianne and Quentyn.

The noise from the crowd was silenced by the beating of drums and sounding of horns as the King and Queens were entering the royal box. The smallfolk cheered when they heard “Her Grace, Queen Elia of House Targaryen”, followed by “Her Grace, Queen Lyanna of House Targaryen.” Then her brother entered to loud cheers as he was introduced as “King Rhaegar, First of His Name, King of the Andals, Rhoynar, and the First Men, Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm”. Her brother then took his place between his two queens wearing a black doublet with finely detailed patterns that alluded to their sigil and a red cloak over one shoulder. Rhaegar did fit the part and looked kingly, especially when he wore his crown as he did now. Her brother then raised his hand, motioning to one of the men on the ground to start the final joust.

She heard a large amount of cheers from the crowd and saw the mystery knight come into view at her left in the same, simple armor he had worn the past two days. Then Aegon rode forth and the smallfolk roared with even more spirit. Each contestant’s squire then handed a lance to both of their riders. Almost before the horn sounded, they were riding towards each other and both riders struck the others’ shoulder. This round was a draw. Soon they lowered their lances again and this time the mystery knight shattered his lance upon Aegon’s shield while Aegon hit his shoulder again. The mystery knight now held the advantage, drawing some screams of displeasure from the crowd. She cheered with her family as Aegon broke his lance upon the mystery knights’ shield on the third tilt, nearly sending him off his destrier. As the fourth tilt came, so did another draw much like the first one. Now her heart was beating out of her chest. This was an exciting match and a member of House Targaryen winning this great tourney would be a prideful achievement Aegon would be able to tell his children about. As her nephew grabbed the lance from his squire, Visenya and herself stood up, yelling “Aegon!” even if he could not hear them.

As the riders slowly lined up, time almost stood still until the horn blew. Aegon urged his destrier forward and his lance looked to be ready to find its target until it ended almost as soon as it started when the mystery knight sent Aegon from his horse. The knight in grey armor almost fell from his own horse as Aegon shattered his lance against the knight’s breastplate. Daenerys jumped from her seat to the look down at Aegon to see if he was unharmed. All of her family had looks of deep concern painted on their faces. Then she saw the mystery knight ride back and jump from his horse. He went to Aegon’s side and it seemed as if Aegon spoke some words as he raised his head before being helped to his feet. Thankfully he was alright and was able to walk it off. This act of chivalry earned the favor of the crowd and they cheered on the mystery knight.

Both the knight and Aegon came to stand before the King and got on one knee. Her brother walked down to the railing of the royal box to get closer to the champion and raised his hand for silence. “A well fought joust. The champion proved his mettle defeating many experienced knights and lords in the King’s Tourney. As champion you shall collect forty thousand gold dragons and I commend the respect you showed the Prince of Dragonstone. Stand Ser.” Her brother then turned and nodded for the Crown of Roses to be brought forward. As the mystery knight mounted his horse again, he was handed the crown. “Who shall you crown the Queen of Love and Beauty?” Rhaegar asked. _Who will he crown? A Lady he admires? Or maybe Rhaenys or Visenya to curry favor with the King?_ The knight slowly moved forward in their direction. Before she could process this, the knight laid the crown before her and she accepted it, placing it on her own head. She blushed at the honor and felt overwhelmed by the attention as the crowd cheered and the knight bowed his head to her.

Her mother and Visenya both smiled, clapping their hands as she was named the Queen of Love and Beauty. She saw Rhaegar make a strange face and saw his focus was on the knight who turned his horse, leaving for the camp. “Mystery Knight!” Rhaegar called to him. “Reveal yourself. I should like to know the man who crowned my sister the Queen of Love and Beauty.” The knight came to a halt on his destrier and turned his head towards the King before looking back to where he planned to ride off to, as if he was actually contemplating an order from the King.

“The King gave you an order. Take off your helm.” Ser Barristan ordered to the mystery knight as their household guard walked up to the knight with spears and swords in hand. _Why won’t he reveal himself. My brother is not my father._

After a few moments too long, the knight tilted his head forward before removing his helmet. She didn’t understand why the knight hesitated to follow a King’s orders after acting so chivalrous before. When the helm came off, she saw raven black hair pulled back into a knot before his face rose into view. _It was Jon. But he hates tourneys. He did this all for me._ She was now fighting the urge to run down and claim him before all the lords of the realm. He stared into her eyes with a small smile before looking back to Rhaegar.

“My son. This a surprise. Tonight’s feast shall be held in your honor. Try not to disguise yourself there.” Rhaegar said with a smirk and then turned to leave the royal box.

 

 

**Jon Targaryen**

The Great Hall in the Red Keep was filled with people celebrating the end of the King’s Tourney. Jon detested the praise and attention he received from the lords and ladies as the tourney champion, but it was worth it to him, to crown Daenerys. Any other time, the lords who were present at court were eager to talk to his father or brother, and he was fine with that. They all lauded his skill with the lance and about a dozen lords did their best to throw their daughters at him. Now that he was back at his family’s table overlooking the feast, he remembered Dany’s look of shock at being crowned and the smile on her face when she saw him reveal himself as the mystery knight. He remembered how beautiful she looked with a crown of roses on top of her silver hair. The look on her face was a memory he would cherish for the rest of his days.

“You remembered.” Daenerys softly let out as she placed her hand on top of his on the table.

“Aye. You always dreamed of being the Queen of Love and Beauty when we were little. You deserved it. There is no one more beautiful in this world. I wish I could say more but you know I’m not a bloody poet.” Jon could look away from her violet eyes that seemed to always imprison him. He was now fighting the urge to claim her full, soft lips right there and let everyone see.

“I love…” She was unable to finish the words they always told each other as his mother came up behind him, laying a hand on the back of his chair to stand between him and Daenerys.

“So how long have you been hiding this from me? I am your mother.” Lyanna said before she pursed her lips.

“Aegon asked me the same thing. I only decided to enter a fortnight ago. You will think me a liar, but I only trained a few days.” _Aegon thought me a liar._

“I am not talking about the joust my son. I am speaking of you two.” Before he could speak, his mother interrupted him, “Do not try to deny it. I saw love in both your eyes and it is clear for all to see now. Your father has not said anything. I am not sure if he knows.”

“I will speak with him tonight. I need to ask him for Dany’s hand before we are betrothed to others.”

“What?” Daenerys had worry written across her face as she gripped his hand.

“I was going to tell you. It is time.”

“Well, you two have my blessing. My son could not find a better wife and future Princess of Summerhall.” Daenerys then stood from her seat to hug his mother.

The rest of the night, he spent talking with Daenerys, or at least for most of it. He did spend some time thanking Samwell Tarly for helping him acquire the armor. Aegon also begged for a rematch in a future tourney while Rhaenys and Allyria jested that he should have crowned them. He looked for Visenya but failed to find her. Jon thought she must have been tired from five nights of feasts.

When his father was finally seated without some lord badgering him, Jon asked for father to grant him an audience later. He was unable to read his father’s reaction but held hope that his father would grant his wish. His father praised his efforts in the tourney and told him he was proud to call him his son.

 

“So, what have you called us all here for?” His father asked sitting behind his desk with Elia sitting to his left and his mother to his right. His grandmother sat to the side with Viserys as they decided to sit in. Jon did not know if they knew the purpose of this or not. Before he uttered a word, he placed his hand over Dany’s hand to his right that rested upon the arm of her own chair.

“Father, as the Head of our House and King of the Seven Kingdoms, I must ask you grant me this one request and let me marry Daenerys. We have loved each other since I can remember and I cannot bear to see myself with another. We are meant for each other and she deserves to be the Princess of Summerhall.” Jon was relieved to finally let it all out and not hide what he shared with her any longer.

It was in that moment when his father briefly shut his eyes, that Jon felt dread wash over his own face and he knew that his father would take away the only thing he ever wanted. The only thing he ever asked from his father. “No.” Rhaegar said flatly.

“My husband, can we not discuss…” His mother tried to rescue this but Jon knew it was futile. Elia held a look of shock and she always treated him as her own son. She cared just as deeply as his mother.

“No. He is the Prince of Summerhall and he has a duty to the realm and our House. He will marry Myrcella Baratheon and keep two great Houses allied to us. My son, I am sorry but you know your duty. It will be some years before you wed Myrcella. Until then, this relationship must end. Robert Baratheon and Tywin Lannister must not feel insulted.”

“Brother, please, don’t do this. I am begging of you.” As Jon looked at Daenerys pleading their cause, tears were running down her face. Jon was fighting back tears of his own. He would not let them see. Without thinking or feeling like he had control, he got up from his seat to walk out of his father’s office connected to his chambers. He could hear Daenerys’ sobs and screaming at his father, “I will never forgive you for this. I hate you! I hate you!” Her voicing was breaking and he had never heard such anger in it.

He slowly walked back to his room, past Kingsguard he paid no mind to. As he got to his room, he broke down and slid down to the floor until he was sitting against the wall next to his bed. With his arms crossed above his knees, Jon dipped his head in shame and failed to stop from letting some tears fall. After a few minutes, he heard his door slam open and rushing into his room came Daenerys who fell into his arms. He felt Dany’s tears wetting his doublet as he heard her mumble, “I won’t let him take you from me. Let’s flee to Essos, far away from here. Far away from him.” Before he could respond she captured his lips and would not let go.

Finally, they broke apart and his hand caressed her tear stained cheek. “We can’t. I can’t. You deserve a better life than that. You are the best person in this shit world and you should live in a grand castle with many children who grow up wanting for naught. I cannot give you that. You would be married to a husband lacking honor and betraying his duty.”

“Fuck honor. Fuck duty. You love me and I love you. My children will be your children. We will grow old together. We promised each other.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” It was all he could get out. He could not say for how long but they must have sat there, on the floor together in silence for hours that night before he escorted her back to her room.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think? I hope I did the Visenya and Daenerys interaction justice. I think it could have been better, but couldn't wrap my head around creating better dialogue. And in case some are wondering, Rhaegar will not be turned into some villain. There will be further conflict within the family but no Dance of Dragons. (Spoiler for those worried, nothing is stopping Jonerys)
> 
> I also know the whole Jon/mystery knight has been done before, but I really like the idea.
> 
> And again, I welcome criticism of plot holes, consistency errors, or serious issues with writing.  
> Next chapter will be out Friday if everything goes as planned.


	5. Winterfell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is a new chapter early. A new year in canon begins in middle of chapter.

**Daenerys Targaryen**

Several moons had passed since the King’s Tourney and a new year was soon upon them. This felt like the saddest time of her life. Her heart was broken when her brother decreed Jon shall marry another and Jon stuck to his duty like a stubborn fool. She was still able to find his bed and he still made love to her, but now it was different. Their time together now always felt like it was poisoned with the knowledge that it would not last. Since that night, she had not spoken to Rhaegar and told herself she never would again.

Just thinking about Jon being taken from her sent her into a frustrated rage. It was a good thing the cool, northern winds tempered her emotions as they travelled up the Kingsroad. Ahead of them sat Ser Arthur with his white cloak riding next to Jon. The Kingsguard turned back to them, “Your Grace, Winterfell is just beyond the hill.”

“I think I should know where we are, Ser Arthur. This is my home.” Lyanna yelled back to the Kingsguard. She shook her head and turned to Daenerys, “I am sorry for Rhaegar’s decision. I can tell what it has done to you. What it has done to my son.”

“He doesn’t even tell me what he is thinking anymore. We used to tell each other everything. How we felt. Now it seems like I have lost him even if he is here, if that makes any sense?” Daenerys felt like she was speaking nonsense and wished she could go back to happier times.

“It does.” Lyanna softly said with a faint smile. “I shouldn’t say this as a dutiful Queen, but I trust you will find a way around Rhaegar’s arrangements. I should know. Your brother and I both disobeyed our fathers’ wishes. My father wanted me married to Robert Baratheon and your father wanted Rhaegar married to another Targaryen but settled with Elia. We found a way. I think you shall too. You are a smart girl. Smarter than we were at your age.”

“I don’t see how. Jon would do anything for me but he also does his duty. More so than any man I can think of besides maybe Lord Stannis.” _What about his duty to me? He promised._

“We will be here for three moons. I would say that is plenty of time to bring my son to his senses. Of course, I never told you this.” Lyanna said with a knowing smirk before riding off to the front of their column.

As they reached the top of the hill with Winterfell and Winter Town in sight, she heard the heavy beat of hooves pounding the ground. Looking over her left shoulder, she saw Visenya and Allyria racing each other with Visenya arriving first. Those south of the Neck would find it odd to see this princess with her bow and arrows slung across her back and several rabbits hanging from her saddle.

“Find us dinner? A bit unnecessary considering we are here.” Daenerys said observing the freshly killed rabbits.

“I was teaching Allyria how to hunt. She isn’t half bad with the bow. A natural.” Visenya replied.

“She is being kind. I only hit one. And Visenya is the one who tracked them. I thought I would hate the cold up here, but I find it rather pleasant. So, that is Winterfell? I do not understand why my mother fought me so hard to travel with you all. It is beautiful country up here.”

“Your mother is a lady from Starfall. About as far away from the North as one could get. The Dornish probably think the northmen to be savages and rough men who do not know how to treat a lady. I know here in the North, many have misperceptions of those in Dorne.” Visenya said. Daenerys could not argue with her.

Riding through Winter Town was a pleasant experience that brought back memories of their time here. Many familiar faces greeted them and some unfamiliar. The people seemed most happy to see Queen Lyanna who has not been here since she was a girl, unmarried, and carrying the Stark name. Soon enough, they were passing under the great walls of Winterfell, through its strong gate. Riding into the yard behind their guards carrying the Targaryen banners, Daenerys felt joy seeing the ramparts and walkways where she fell in love with Jon. The joy quickly turned to pain as the present filled her thoughts again.

Awaiting them stood Lord Stark in his fur cloak and Lady Catelyn. Next to them stood Robb, then Sansa, Arya, Bran, and Rickon. Immediately, she noticed Robb looked closer to a man and not the boy she knew, much like Jon. Sansa was growing into a beautiful girl who may find herself with many suitors in the future. Arya looked wild as ever. Bran was taller and Rickon couldn’t be called the baby of the family anymore.

The Starks and everyone in the yard bent the knee as Lyanna dismounted her mare. “My Queen.” Lord Stark said with pride in his voice.

“Stand brother and it is Lyanna. I may be Queen but I am still your sister who was raised inside these walls.” She hugged her brother tightly. “I’ve missed this. I can’t believe I have been away all these years. Cat.” Lyanna then embraced her good-sister.

“My Queen. I hope you will find Winterfell suitable.” Catelyn spoke and acted like a perfect lady should.

“I am sure I will. Last we saw each other was Riverrun yes? You were still a lady of the Riverlands then. Now I fear you look more at home in the North than I do now.” She then moved to Robb. “You look strong. You will be as great a warrior as my brothers. Jon says you fight well.”

“If I may speak freely your Grace, Jon is too humble. I am not a match for him with the sword.”

Jon and Visenya then greeted Lord Stark and Lady Catelyn while she saw Lyanna move on to Arya after speaking to Sansa.

“You remind me of me when I was little. I can tell you get into trouble and stress your mother out.” That earned a laugh from Arya. Lyanna continued, “An expert with the bow I suspect? I hope my daughter taught you some while she lived here.”

Before Daenerys could listen in for more, Lady Catelyn broke her concentration, “Princess Daenerys. You are even more beautiful than when you left us. Your old room should be ready.” Daenerys then proceeded to talk with Lord Stark and Robb after Jon was finished conversing with them.

Visenya then pulled Allyria over and introduced her. “Uncle, Aunt, may I introduce you to Lady Allyria Dayne.”

“Winterfell is truly impressive my Lord. I had heard stories from Jon and Visenya. When they asked me to travel with them, I could not say no. I think my mother feared I may freeze to death this far North. I think she would like it.” As Allyria spoke, Daenerys noticed Lord Stark give her a strange look. A look of fear, as if he had seen a ghost. Daenerys thought it odd but dismissed her observations. They were no longer in King’s Landing and she told herself she did not need to be suspicious of the people here.

 

**298 AC**

 

**Visenya Targaryen**

“Lift your elbow. Aim with your body.” Visenya whispered to Arya as they stood in the background as Bran was slinging arrows at a target. When his shots missed their intended mark, Arya released her arrow, earning a bullseye shot. Jon, Robb, and Theon turned around and started laughing which angered Bran enough to chase after Arya.

“You couldn’t help yourself, could you?” Jon said trying to hold back his laughter.

“No. She needs to learn to wield a sword now. Well, at least a small one.” Visenya said with pride. In the fortnight they had been in Winterfell, she had been able to help Arya refine her technique in archery. She found herself staring at Jon for too long. An all too common occurrence. “I’m sorry father…,” she began.

“Jon, Robb, our men have found a Nights Watch deserter. Jory, see to it the horses are readied.” Her uncle stated as he made his way down the stairs to the yard. He was wearing his typical fur lined cloak, similar to the ones Jon and Robb wore. “Bran, you are coming too.”

“I think I shall accompany you. See Uncle Ned carry out justice the old way.” She turned to Jon who scoffed at her words.

“You know what our Uncle will say. Not a thing for girls to see.”

“It is a good thing I am a princess then and he cannot command me to stay here.” At least that is what Visenya would have her brother believe. In truth, if her uncle were to object to her company, she would not be as brave with her words.

“I shall come too.” Arya pipped in. It warmed Visenya’s heart that her cousin looked up to her as an idol and tried to copy everything she did, except her love of books. _Well, Arya did like to read about Visenya, Rhaenys, and Nymeria._

“I wish I could bring you with us, but your father will say no and I cannot tell him how to run his own house. When we return, how about we practice the sword? Maybe Jon will join us.” Visenya earned a smile from Arya before she hugged her little cousin and then left for the stables.

The ride from Winterfell took them past many rolling hills until they came upon a dozen men surrounding a thin man who looked worn down from running and hiding from any who would bring justice to the deserter. His black clothes looked ragged and worn. Even more so than a typical brother of the Watch from what she could remember. He was brought forth by two of the Stark men guarding him to the executioner’s block. _At least he isn’t dragging his feet or acting like a coward._

“I know I broke my oath. I know I am a deserter. I should have gone back to the Wall and warned them. But I saw what I saw. I saw the white walkers. People need to know.” The deserter said in a low tone. Now Visenya thought him a mad man. “Tell my parents I’m a coward. Tell them I’m sorry.”

After his final words were spoken, the guards moved him down to the block. Her Uncle unsheathed Ice from its scabbard held by Theon Greyjoy. As she watched with some disappointment that this man deserted the Watch, her Uncle said, “In the name of Rhaegar of the House Targaryen, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, I Eddard of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, sentence you to die.”

Just as Ned spoke the words, Jon moved up to Bran on her right and told him, “Don’t look away. Your father will know if you do.” As her Uncle brought down Ice, Bran did not flinch. “You did well.” Jon finished. Seeing the deserter’s head on the ground was an unpleasant sight and Visenya turned to walk back to her mare.

On the ride back to Winterfell, they rode through a small part of the Wolfswood only to come upon an unexpected sight before a small stone bridge. Before them lay a stag with its guts ripped apart. As they dismounted, Visenya wondered what kind of animal could do such a thing around here. She thought maybe wolves did this, but dismissed it as unlikely.

“What is it? A mountain lion?” Theon questioned.

“There are no mountain lions in these woods.” Her uncle responded.

Their party slowly followed a trail of blood down along the small stream that flowed under the bridge. Visenya could not believe what she saw before her. A direwolf, south of the Wall. She felt sad that such a majestic creature met an unfitting end. Then she became even more amazed at the little direwolf pups surrounding their dead mother.

“It’s a freak.” Theon blurted out. Visenya wanted to hit him.

“It’s a direwolf.” Her uncle muttered as he pulled an antler from the direwolf’s side. “Tough old beast.”

“There are no direwolves south of the Wall.” Robb said with shock or amazement in his eyes.

“Now there are five.” Jon interjected. Robb then handed one of the pups to Bran to hold.

Ser Rodrik Cassel then spoke, “They don’t belong down here.”

“Better a quick death. They won’t last long without their mother.” Ned Stark commented.

“Give it here.” Theon urged Bran with a blade in hand.

“No!” Bran screamed.

“Put away your blade.” Robb said with a tinge of anger.

“I take orders from your father.” Theon responded. Visenya rolled her eyes at that. Theon may follow orders but didn’t seem to ever gather any other lessons her Uncle may try to instill in him.

“Please father.” Bran pleaded.

“Lord Stark, there are five pups. One for each of the Stark children. The direwolf is a sigil of your house. They were meant to have them.” Jon always had a soft spot for their cousins and helping Bran keep his pup was something Visenya admired.

Her uncle contemplated the decision before telling Bran, “You will train them yourselves. You will feed them yourselves. And if they should die, you will bury them yourselves.” Robb and Theon picked up the remaining pups that yipped and squirmed a bit.

“What about you?” Bran questioned Jon.

“I’m not a Stark.” Jon said flatly. “Go on.”

Visenya was about follow the party back to their horses when she turned to Jon as they heard more pups making noise. Visenya moved first, walking another ten feet to peer around a bush to see six more pups. “We are taking these Jon. We can’t let them die.” She found the one that caught her eye. An energetic pup with a coat that had fur that was a mix of white and grey that almost gave it a silver appearance. “Silver…That is what I shall call you.”

Visenya turned to see Jon pick up an albino pup with piercing red eyes, far different to the grey eyes of her pup. There were four more. Another all white pup similar to Jon’s minus the red eyes, a white and grey pup similar to hers, a black pup, and a pup with black and grey fur. Jon picked up another. Theon and Ser Rodrik carried the others.

The entire ride back to Winterfell, she held Silver close to her chest in one arm, trying to keep the pup warm as well as herself. Visenya felt proud to have a living direwolf, the sigil of her mother’s House. She may be a dragon, but the blood of the First Men still ran in her veins. Soon, she realized her pup would be more of a handful than her brother’s. While Jon’s was still and didn’t make much sound, hers yipped and squirmed in her arms.

Once inside Winterfell, Visenya was quick to leave her mare at the stables and carried her pup to the Godswood. Before she could reach its entrance, her mother, Dany, and Allyria walked out. Each of them couldn’t bring their eyes off the adorable direwolves. “What is this? A wolf pup?” Her mother asked as she pet Silver behind the ears.

“A direwolf. I have named this one Silver. She likes to fight me.” She said as her pup ran its legs in the air.

“Here, these two are for you.” Jon said as he handed the white one to Daenerys and the white/grey furred one to Allyria.

“I’m not sure I should have one. King’s Landing is no place for a direwolf, is it?” Allyria protested.

“It will be. They’re too cute to leave alone. For now, at least. And they can live in the Red Keep and the gardens. I’ll make sure father approves.” Visenya assured Allyria. “Have you named yours Jon?”

“Ghost. He moves around quietly and will blend into the snow come winter.” Jon looked down with a smile at his wolf that sat on its hind legs at his feet with his tongue hanging out.

“Mine is white like the snow. I’ll keep it simple and name her Snow.” Daenerys said as she held her pup to her face before it started to lick her cheek. “I think she likes me already. Allyria, you must name your pup now.”

“I’m terrible with names. I guess it will be a good companion to have when it gets cold. Oh, now I’ve thought of one. Winter. What will you do with the other two here?” Allyria asked as she held hers up in the air.

“Give them to Aegon and Rhaenys. Hopefully my father does not think we are planning to change our sigil to a wolf.” Jon said while picking Ghost back up and showing him to their mother. Visenya was trying to picture her sister with a direwolf instead of the old, black cat she used to have named Balerion.

“See to it they are trained. Knowing your father, he will not like the idea of them in the Red Keep. He’ll likely fear some incident that could arise from their presence. Here, give me the one over there and I’ll care for it.” Lyanna pointed towards the direwolf with black and grey fur. “These all came from one direwolf?”

“It appeared so. From what I’ve read, maesters thought direwolves typically birth five to seven pups. Perhaps there was another direwolf we did not see or the mother was blessed to have eleven pups. Hopefully it was just the one, or else another mother may hunt us down for her children.” Visenya recalled what she had read about the creatures.

 

 

**Lyanna Stark**

Lyanna stood atop the ramparts of Winterfell, gazing upon the surrounding hills. She made a habit of returning to the walls of Winterfell everyday since she had returned to her family home. Only it did not feel like the home she had remembered. It was hard to reconcile, but Lyanna decided Winterfell no longer held the feeling of home anymore because her children and husband have lived on Dragonstone or in King’s Landing for all these years now. What did bring her happiness was the ability to ride whenever she wished and not attending her queenly duties at court. Elia was far better spending time with ladies in waiting and entertaining the lords and ladies of Westeros. That wasn’t Lyanna.

“My Queen.” Lyanna’s thoughts were broken by Ser Arthur walking towards her with a raven’s scroll in hand. “A raven from King’s Landing.”

Lyanna took the scroll from Arthur and broke the seal to unfurl the message. As she read the scroll, her heart filled with sorrow and then surprise as she read its final contents. Letting out a sigh, she turned to the Kingsguard, “Find my children, Daenerys, and Allyria. Have them meet me in the Godswood.”

As Arthur turned on his heels, Lyanna followed down the steps from the ramparts and made her way to the entrance of the Godswood. With Ser Oswell shadowing her, Lyanna mulled over what Rhaegar had written and knew the news would not be welcome. Eventually, Ser Arthur appeared with her children, Daenerys, and Allyria in tow. “Come, I have unpleasant news from King’s Landing. I shall tell you and my brother.”

Walking through the arched entrance in the wall to the Godswood, Lyanna took in the colorful leaves on the trees and wished the Red Keep had a Godswood that could match. She knew where to find her brother and led the way. Before the great weirwood tree sat her brother and Lady Catelyn on a rock next to one of the steaming pools. Ice stood between his feet as he sharpened its blade, if that was even possible.

“Ned.” Lyanna had trouble finishing her words as she knew how much Jon Arryn meant to him.

“What is it?” Ned asked with a look of panic and worry.

“Jon Arryn has died. I know he was like a father to you. He was a great Hand, a good Lord, and a better man.” Lyanna said wishing she could be more elegant with her words. She wasn’t a poet.

“I am so sorry.” Catelyn said as she smoothed a hand over her husband’s back. “Was their word about my sister?”

“She and her son are returning to the Eyrie. There is more.” Ned looked up to them as fearing she would bring more bad news. “My husband is riding north for Winterfell. I am sure you know what that means.”

“Aye. And I presume he is not coming alone.” Ned’s face betrayed his thoughts for she could tell he did not wish what her husband would ask of him.

“No. All our family will be with him. And with them come a hundred or so more.” Lyanna turned on her heels to face her children. “Let us give my brother some privacy.”

After leaving the Godswood, Lyanna led her children to her solar and poured herself a cup of wine. She saw Jon and Daenerys sitting together on one couch with Allyria and Visenya sitting across from them. “So, father plans to make Uncle Ned Hand of the King? I do not think Lord Stark will like that. Lady Catelyn even less.” Jon said with a concerned look.

“He does. And Ned will say yes. He will do what he sees as his duty.” Lyanna answered before sipping on the cup of wine which left something to be desired. “Better your uncle than Jon Connington. Loyal he may be, but family he is not.”

“Not as smart as he thinks he is either.” Daenerys’ jest earned a laugh from Lyanna.

“I don’t like it. Uncle Ned is a man of honor and the North. King’s Landing is not the place for him.” Visenya’s words were true. Lyanna knew all too well how unpleasant the capitol was for someone who had grown up in a place like Winterfell.

“Regardless, your father will be here in a moon or so. Do your best to help House Stark prepare for the rest of our family’s arrival.”

 

 

**Jon Targaryen**

“Ghost, with me.” Jon ordered his small direwolf. At his words, the pup was quick on his heels without making a sound. Quietly, Jon crept down the hallway and to the stairs. He hoped Ser Arthur or Oswell did not spot him, but if he was honest with himself, he did not care. Exiting the keep, Jon looked around the court yard to ensure no one was about to see his movements. Once he was sure the area was empty, he ran towards the entrance to the Godswood. “Stay here Ghost. Come let me know if anyone is coming.”

Jon made his way through the trees and eventually saw the steam rising in the moonlight from the Winterfell hot springs. Remembering where they were meeting, he passed all the pools until he came upon the furthest one near the outer walls of the Godswood. There, he saw Daenerys already relaxing in the calm water. “Hurry, I’ve been waiting.”

Without bothering with a response, Jon instantly removed his clothes, finding the cold air this night was rather unpleasant. Dropping into the water, Jon felt the steaming pool warm his skin a second before Daenerys wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. Capturing his lips, her fire felt like it burnt through his skin and warmed his soul. Since his father refused their marriage, he felt like he lost any purpose in his life except for these moments they still shared with each other. When his thoughts drifted to what his future may look like, Daenerys began to thrust into him seeking relief for her tension. Usually he was the more eager of the two, but he had noticed that had changed since they left King’s Landing.

As her hand reached for his length and began to stroke it, she whispered in his ear, “I need you inside me.” He was always hers to command and he took no time to fill her with his length and instantly, their hips were colliding at a rapid pace. “Jon…Faster…Faster” she murmured as her nails dug into his back. As fast as he was going, he did not think he could last much longer. Once he felt her finding her release and she let out a small scream, he spilled into her. Once he was spent, he rested his brow against hers as he panted for air.

“We should leave. Tonight. Pack our things and go.” Daenerys said as she cupped his cheeks and looked into his eyes. _Not this again._ “No one is here to stop us and we could make it to Essos.”

“I told you we are not doing that. You deserve better. You are a princess of House Targaryen.” Jon closed his eyes with frustration hoping his words would finally get through. Her face was marked with disappointment, which always crushed him. After a few moments, he then recognized the face she always made when she was contemplating a decision. “What is it? I know that look. What is it you are trying to decide?”

“I have something to confess. I have known for some months and have tried to tell you before but could not find the right time. I did not know if I myself would accept it.” She was starting to worry him. “Visenya is in love with you. So, you see? If you stay here and follow on with Rhaegar’s orders, you aren’t just breaking my heart. Visenya will also be broken to see you with Myrcella.”

“What? I don’t… Visenya has never said…” When the words left his mouth, he now realized how Senya would look at him and the way she would act strangely so often around him. “Daenerys, you know I have not betrayed…”

“I know”, she said softly, “She came to me and asked if I would share you. I was angry at first but she is like a little sister to me. My best friend. I can tell her love for you is as true as mine. If you are accepting, I will let her know. We are meant to be together and Visenya is meant to be with us.”

“Dany…” Jon didn’t know what to say. He never really thought of Visenya that way. He could not deny she was beautiful. She certainly possessed all the features he was attracted to.

“Just think about it. I am not asking for a decision tonight. I know you would never betray me.” Daenerys had her arms around his neck and leaned closer in to him before taking his lips before he could respond.

As they sat in the water together, Jon felt like he knew nothing. Sometimes he considered taking up Daenerys’ offers to run away and leave everything behind only to dismiss it as mad and selfish, betraying his duty to his father, their House, and the kingdoms. Now he was trying to understand why Daenerys would share him with his sister. The rest of the night, he contemplated what he would say to Visenya. _How would she respond? Would she be crushed by his rejection? Would she hate him? Or was this misplaced love? He did not know._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So maybe I added too many direwolves, but I don't really care.  
> Next chapter should be out this weekend, Monday night at latest.


	6. A New Hand, Betrayal, & Exile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is. Probably one of the two most important chapters in the story.

**Elia Martell**

They had been riding in this wheelhouse for over a moon and Elia felt like she would be driven to madness if she were stuck in it any longer. Beside her sat Ashara Dayne wrapped under furs much like herself, not accustomed to the northern chill. Across from her sat Rhaella who spent most of the ride ignoring large parts of their conversations, staring out at the northern landscape. Some may take it as a sign of disfavor, but Elia knew better. She knew Rhaella was not one who was entertained or engaged with the court gossip or new fashions Elia and Ashara spoke of. Next to Rhaella sat Rhaenys, who spent most of the journey riding a mare next to Aegon.

Suddenly there was a knock on the side of the wheelhouse. “My Queen, Winterfell is in our sight. We will be inside the castle walls shortly”, Ser Jonothor Darry declared.

Elia turned to Ashara, “Are you ready to see him again?” She wondered if Ashara would tell Ned Stark the truth or let sleeping wolves lie. Or perhaps Ned Stark had already suspected Ashara’s secret now that it was right there in front of him to see. _Likely not. Allyria looks like a mirror image of Ashara._

“It has been seventeen years. No, more than that. A lifetime ago it seems. He has a wife. Children. I am happy with my life. I am indifferent to the matter. I just fear he may see something in Allyria to make him suspect.” Ashara said, trying to hide her feelings with a stone face. But Elia knew her friend and knew she was either lying to her or to herself.

“You should have been the Lady of Winterfell.” Elia responded. After the words left her mouth, she wished she had not.

“Enough with this. We are almost here. Best not dwell on dark times and what could have been. You two have gloom and sadness on your faces. Not the presentation we want to give these northerners.” Rhaella interjected with her voice of queenly authority.

Soon they were rolling through Winter Town. Her daughter and Rhaella waved to the smallfolk as they passed by. Rhaenys was always good with the smallfolk in King’s Landing and on royal progresses. She earned adoration from the high lords and smallfolk alike. Elia knew she would make for a great queen that could earn herself a legacy that would last like Good Queen Alysanne.

Once they were inside the walls of Winterfell and the wheelhouse came to a stop, Ser Jonothor opened the door before she stepped down. Before her were the Starks and their household exchanging pleasantries with her husband. To Rhaegar’s side stood Aegon who was already introducing himself to Ned and Catelyn Stark. Elia noticed Jon, Visenya, Daenerys, and Allyria further to her right. As she walked up to Catelyn Stark, she received a curtsy from the lady. “My Queen.”

“Lady Stark. It is a pleasure to visit Winterfell. I have never seen the lands north of Riverrun.” Elia said with as much grace and enthusiasm as she could. She did not like the cold and did not want to be here. It wasn’t dislike of the Starks or northermen. She rather enjoyed any northerners they encountered in the South, few that there were. And Lyanna was of the North. Had she hated her, her marriage to Rhaegar would not have lasted.

Before Catelyn could reply, Rhaegar came back to Ned and Catelyn. “Ned, show me to your crypts. I wish to pay my respects.” Rhaegar’s words earned a nod from Lord Stark.

Elia moved to follow her husband, Lyanna, and Ned Stark. As she looked back, she saw her son and daughter talking with their brother and sister. Ashara was standing next to Rhaella in deep conversation with Allyria. Behind them came the Baratheons. Elia still did not understand why her husband let them follow on the journey. Robert Baratheon and Ned Stark are great friends but Elia did not enjoy his presence or his poorly hidden lusting for Lyanna.

Ned Stark led them from the yard to an arched stone passageway within the keep that appeared to lead them down into a pit of darkness. Walking down the dark stairway, she pulled on her fur coat as the air down here was colder. This place was fitting for the Starks and Kings of Winter. Cold, dark, and not extravagant. Slowly, they marched past statue after statue of the lords of Winterfell. Finally, upon the tombs for Rickard and Brandon Stark, she saw unshed tears in Lyanna’s eyes next to her as she stared at her lost father and brother. Rhaegar held a face of guilt and regret. _What happened to the Starks was terrible, but dare I say it was for the good of the realm. It led to the end of Aerys and prevented acts that may have been worse._

“I owe your family a great deal Lord Stark. Your father and brother’s deaths were senseless. I should have seen an end to my father’s reign sooner. Should have seen the consequences of running away with Lyanna without sending word.” Rhaegar addressed Ned Stark while staring at the statues before finally turning around.

“You owe my family nothing your grace. We are brothers by law and you are my king.” _Ned Stark is still how she remembered. Not one for words._

“As I am sure you know I did not travel all this way just to feast in your halls and hunt in your woods. Our mutual friend, Jon Arryn, is dead. A good Hand and an even better man. I shall miss his council, but there isn’t time to dwell on his absence. I need a Lord I can trust to help run my kingdom. I would name you my Hand.”

Immediately Ned Stark went to his knee. “You do me a great honor my King. I am not worthy…”

“Stand Ned.” Rhaegar pulled on Ned’s shoulder for him to stand. “And you will accept. My other good-brother, I am afraid is too ill to serve and I do not have many options. Do not make me turn to Lord Tywin.”

“I will do as you command your grace.”

“Good and maybe you can keep Robert Baratheon from drinking himself into an early grave. I’d like to keep Tywin’s influence out of Storm’s End for as long as possible.” Elia thought his words wise. Joffrey was Cersei’s son and Tywin would have even more power. Rhaegar continued, “I don’t expect you to be my hand forever. Just give me a few good years and possibly one of my sons could take over your duties when they have enough years behind them.”

“Congratulations brother.” Lyanna said as she pulled her brother in for a hug. “You may hate the capitol but the Red Keep itself isn’t so bad. If you bring my nieces to court, it should not be hard to find them a good match. And Bran could squire for Jon or Aegon. I’ve been here long enough to hear him talk about becoming a knight.”

“I can attest your daughter Sansa would do well in the capitol Lord Stark.” Elia added, hoping her words would lift Ned’s spirits. She could tell he would accept the position of Hand of the King out of duty alone. “I know plenty of young ladies her age she would get along with and enjoy. And there are always handsome young lords looking for a beautiful lady to marry in King’s Landing.”

“Thank you for the kind words my Queen. I shall talk to my wife about which children shall travel to the King’s Landing.”

 

 

**Daenerys Targaryen**

Daenerys moved her hands through her direwolf’s fur as it sat at her feet while she was seated at the edge of her bed next to Visenya. Allyria’s wolf, Winter, was running around the room howling with boundless energy that never seemed to go away. In the chair next to Allyria, Rhaenys held her new pup she had named Shadow due to his black coloring and always being at her side for the short time she had him.

“Has Egg given his wolf a name?” Visenya asked Rhaenys.

“Zokla,” Rhaenys answered while holding Shadow tightly, showing the direwolf her affection.

“Wolf in Valyrian? And I thought I wasn’t creative naming Silver.” Visenya said shaking her head with a smirk on her lips.

“I can’t believe your father let the Baratheons travel here. I am honestly surprised our mothers were able to be around Cersei for more than an hour,” Allyria said while picking up her wolf from the floor.

“She kept to her children most of the time. Thank the gods Joffrey kept to himself. You would think he is a crown prince or king the way he acts.” Rhaenys said with evident distaste for the heir to House Baratheon. Daenerys could not disagree. His actions in the past, especially with Visenya, earned her hatred for him. “At least Myrcella is a kind and sweet girl.”

As the words left Rhaenys’ mouth, Daenerys felt rage overcome her and she was sure there was fire in her eyes upon seeing Rhaenys’ reaction.

“Sorry Dany.” Rhaenys apologized.

“It is alright. It isn’t her fault.” _I need to tell Jon the truth before it is too late._ “At least they cannot marry anytime soon.”

“It isn’t fair. Father will let Rhaenys and Aegon marry.” Visenya said with hand on Daenerys’ shoulder. She continued, “Why he tries to appease the Baratheons or Lannisters, I will never understand. At least he won’t be telling Allyria who she will marry.”

“No. That honor will go to my mother or uncle.” Allyria responded. “That is, if any lord should want me.” Allyria was one of the most beautiful women in Westeros. She was the daughter of Ashara Dayne. But Daenerys also knew, Allyria buried her sadness over the circumstances of her birth. No one ever called her bastard in their presence, especially since Rhaegar legitimized her as a Dayne once he was crowned, but Allyria knew some would still see her as a bastard. Daenerys scoffed at the idea of any lord not wanting to marry Allyria. They would be fools.

“What are you talking about? Every lord from here to Dorne would fall on their sword to have your hand.” Rhaenys interjected, trying to comfort her best friend.

“I may be a Dayne, but Westeros isn’t Dorne. And some will still see me as a bastard.”

Rhaenys scoffed. “Then they are fools.”

“It really doesn’t bother me that much. I just wish I knew who my father was. My mother never tells me. No matter how many times I ask.” Allyria held unshed tears in her eyes. Daenerys could tell their friend, who is basically a sister, was fighting not to breakdown in front of them.

“I hope you find the truth one day. Anyways, I think we should drink these troubles away tonight with some fine Dornish red.” Rhaenys cheerfully encouraged Allyria.

“Sorry to disappoint sister, but unless you have brought enough Dornish wine with you, the wine here is quite poor. Here, the lords prefer a good ale and the ladies fail to get their hands on a good wine.” Visenya spoke with amusement on her face when Rhaenys frowned at her description of the northern drinking preferences.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to make due.” The disappointment was clear in Rhaenys’ voice. “I will see you three later. I am going to find my brother and then prepare for tonight.” Rhaenys stood from her chair and turned to the door with Shadow following quickly behind her.

“I guess we should get ready now as well.” Allyria nodded a farewell to Daenerys as she made for the door with Visenya following her.

 

Daenerys had sat through many feasts in her time at Winterfell, but this one was surely the largest and most lavish. Lady Stark spared no expense to impress her brother and his wives. If she knew them better, she would know the person most impressed by the feast was Robert Baratheon. At the start of the feast, Lord Robert sat at the dais next to Ned Stark and Rhaegar. Now he was sitting at one of the lower tables in the great hall with some woman in his lap. His wife sat next to Lady Catelyn at the dais with either a look of disgust or indifference, she could not tell. If Jon ever did that to her, she would not contain her displeasure, but that wasn’t Jon.

Next to Lady Catelyn sat Lyanna Stark who spoke with her good-sister but avoided conversation with Cersei. Besides Rhaegar sat Elia and Ashara sat between Elia and Lyanna. Lady Ashara looked like she was sad over something which was odd considering she usually held a bright smile on her face.

Everyone was starting the get deep into their cups at this feast as the tales told by the men grew more absurd and the songs rang louder. At their table before the dais, Theon was bragging about his exploits with the girls in Winter Town. Daenerys rolled her eyes for she knew Theon paid for his company. She would never understand why Robb got along so well with him. Aegon started some drinking game with them she knew would get out of hand later. Daenerys spent most of the feast conversing with Visenya, Rhaenys, and Allyria.

“Where is Jon at? I know he dislikes feasts but I haven’t seen him for two moons at least and haven’t seen much of him today.” Rhaenys asked while looking around the hall. _Where is he?_

“Practicing with his sword most likely. If not, probably brooding in his room by himself. I love our brother but he really does need to discover the joys to be found in this life.” Aegon answered before finishing his horn of ale.

Daenerys wished he was here with her. She was getting tired with feasts when they returned to King’s Landing and she could do without them in their time at Winterfell. And her night was certainly less enjoyable without wine to help her make it through.

“Senya …” Before Daenerys could get out her question, she felt a bump into her shoulder as Arya made her way in between herself and Visenya to take a seat at their table.

“What has you so angry?” Visenya asked of her cousin.

“I’m not angry. I’m just sick of Sansa and Jeyne over there.” Daenerys turned to look at Sansa and her best friend, Jeyne Poole, giggling like the little girls they were. She noticed they were staring at Joffrey Baratheon as they were whispering to each other. “Since Father has agreed to betroth Sansa to Joffrey, its all she talks about.”

“Joffrey? You jest.” Visenya voiced her displeasure with a scowl on her face. Arya just shook her head, confirming the worst. _Well, the worst for Sansa. She may not know it now, but she will find Joffrey to be a terrible man to marry one day._ “I feel sorry for her then.”

“I will never marry some stupid lord. Wearing dresses, needlework, and having children, that’s not me.” Arya seemed so confidant in her future. Daenerys admired the girl, but she also felt sorry for Arya for her future was not entirely hers to decide. “I want to be like you. Wielding a sword and bow. A true warrior, like the first Visenya.”

Visenya placed a hand on Arya’s forearm above the table giving her a knowing look. “I may know how to use a sword and sling arrows, but I would like to marry and have children one day. It may seem stupid now, but I hope you find some lord who can make you happy.”

Arya held a look of disbelief. She always looked up to her cousin and always idolized her. “You sound like Sansa.” Before Visenya could respond, Arya got up from the table and scampered off.

“I wish for her sake she finds a lord and holds onto him. Otherwise, she will find herself without a choice and betrothed to some lord far away from here.” Daenerys spoke with some sadness. This world wasn’t fair to girls and she felt sorry for Arya would soon learn that lesson the hard way.

“Are you alright? You haven’t seemed yourself lately.” Visenya asked with a concerned look. “You did not look well the other morning and now you are hardly eating or drinking tonight.” _Does she know?_

“I am fine.” She lied but could tell Visenya knew better. “I am going to find Jon.”

Daenerys got up from the table, bidding Visenya farewell. She was about to say something to Rhaenys but Allyria was entertaining her with some story about riding through the Wolfswood. Daenerys made her way past several tables and through the doorway into the corridor. She walked down the corridor and found the stairs to reach the ground floor and exit the keep.

Stepping outside, Daenerys took in the cool night air that always brought a chill in the North. Daenerys looked around to find the surroundings of the keep utterly quiet and empty. She did not even spot a guard or any smallfolk wondering about. It occurred to her that she should make the short walk over to the training yard. As she came upon her destination, she heard several voices before noticing one belonged to Jon. As she walked up behind several wooden crates stacked up near her height, she recognized the other man as Benjen Stark.

“Take me with you.” She heard Jon tell his uncle. _Take him where?_

“Jon, you’re a Prince of House Targaryen. The wall is no place for you. Even if I wanted to take you, my sister would have my head.” Benjen Stark responded. Daenerys couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“The Nights Watch needs the help. At least there, I can be of some service to the realm. I have no future in the South. My father has taken away the future I wanted. At the Wall, I will have some purpose. As Prince, I will be forced to marry a woman I do not love and see the one I do love married off to another.” Jon answered with anger and frustration apparent in his voice. _No, you fool. You can still have me, us._

“I am going to find my brother. Think about this long and hard. You have been to the Wall. You have seen it is a hard life and likely a short one.” Benjen slapped Jon’s shoulder before marching off to the keep and the feast to find Ned Stark.

Daenerys soon realized tears were rolling down her cheeks as she panicked at Jon’s request to join the Nights Watch. She needed to come clean and reveal the truth to Jon. To stop him from making a decision he could not take back. Slowly, she stepped out from behind the wooden crates and into the training yard. Jon started swinging Longclaw at the practice dummy.

“Jon… Jon… “ Daenerys found her voice breaking apart as she uttered his name before he turned around.

“Dany.” He moved to her and laid a hand on her face before rubbing away her tears. “What is wrong?”

“How could you? How could you wish to abandon me and go to the Wall?” His grey eyes darted back and forth trying to come up with an answer.

“I will not marry Myrcella Baratheon. I will not marry any lady in this world except you. Father will not let me have you and I have accepted that. He cannot force me to marry another if I join the Nights Watch.”

“Don’t leave me. Don’t leave us.” Daenerys was sobbing now and before she could say anymore, Jon cut her off.

“Dany, this is my choice. I will…” _No, I need to stop this now._

“I am pregnant.” This was the first time the words left her mouth and she felt the great weight lifted from her shoulders. But now that she finally told the truth to Jon, she felt fear overcome her. _What would he say now? How will he react?_

“Wha…What?” Jon struggled to let the words escape his mouth.

“I am pregnant. With our child. You see? You cannot join the Watch.”

“How long have you known? I thought the moon tea…”

Daenerys interrupted him before he could say more. “I stopped taking it. I have known for a few weeks now. I have been sick in the mornings. Maester Luwin confirmed I was pregnant after I started to notice the signs.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jon asked with his voice almost cracking.

“I wanted to. I did not know the right time. I had to tell you now before you do something foolish and make our child grow up without a father.” Daenerys said with tears flowing again as she raised her hands to hold his face. She noticed his hands slowly move from her waist and glide across her stomach. She wished he knew how much this meant to her now.

“Marry me. Here. Tonight.” Jon huskily said as his brow rested against hers. She lifted her head to look in his eyes. This would be the greatest night of her life and she couldn’t contain her happiness. She instantly jumped up into his arms and wrapped her legs around him before capturing his lips. “I take that as a yes.”

“Yes. Yes. Yes. This is all I have ever wanted. We’ll marry before the weirwood in the godswood. Who should we bring as witnesses?” As she questioned him, she started to think of who they could trust who would not alert her brother.

“Egg, Rhae, Allyria, Visenya, and Robb. Our parents would likely stop us. What about Visenya?”

Daenerys understood his concern. “She will be happy for us. Now go find Egg and Robb when the feast dies down. I will gather your sisters and Allyria. Just be sure not to get caught by any of the Kingsguard or household guard.”

“The same goes for you.” As she opened her mouth to respond, Jon pulled her flush against himself to give her one last kiss before they were wed. Daenerys tried to savor this moment and tried not to get carried away with her excitement.

Once Jon released her from his hold, Daenerys turned on her heels and walked as fast as she could back to her room in the keep. Surprisingly, she did not come across anyone along her path besides a few Targaryen guards. Opening the door to her room, she peered inside to find a few candles illuminating the room and Visenya sitting on her bed.

“Where have you been? I was looking for you and Jon. And why are you smiling like that?”

Daenerys walked towards Visenya and placed her hands over Visenya’s. “I have something to tell you. Jon and I are going to marry. Tonight. We want you to be there and I was hoping you would help me look a bit more presentable for this.”

Visenya couldn’t close her mouth. Daenerys worried it was a result of Visenya’s displeasure but soon discovered it was due to her shock. “I…I’m surprised Jon would do this. I am happy for you. If you’re going to marry, we will need to change your hair some and find a proper dress. Let me go get Rhaenys and Allyria. They will do far better preparing you than I.”

Before she could leave the room, Daenerys took hold of Visenya’s wrist to tell her the entire truth. “There is more. I am pregnant.”

“I am to be an aunt?” Visenya said in a low voice.

“Yes. And thank the gods, otherwise I think Jon would have done something foolish and would never marry me.”

“Start looking for dresses you may like. I will go find my sister.” Daenerys was about to warn her before Visenya cut her off, “And yes, I will be discrete.”

Silently, Visenya left Daenerys’ room and disappeared into the hallway. Daenerys turned to her wardrobe trunk and started to sift through her choices. She hadn’t planned on marrying and did not have a great selection to choose from. Luckily, she did bring a new, white dress with silver dragon scales and wings incorporated into the design that would hint at her heritage. Daenerys held the dress up before the tall looking glass next to her bed. She tried to imagine herself in it before the weirwood next to Jon.

Daenerys lost herself in dreaming of what this night could look like before she heard her door creak open and turned her head to see Rhaenys walking in. “Pregnant and planning a secret wedding right under my father’s nose,” Rhaenys said with a smirk on her face. “And they say I am the one always up to no good. Visenya was right. Allyria and I need to see to your hair.”

“I am happy for the two of you,” Allyria said as she sat beside her on the bed. “Now let us get started so we aren’t attending a wedding in the morning.”

For what seemed like hours, Daenerys sat in her room overwhelmed by impatience as Rhaenys and Allyria prepared her for the most important moment of her life. She just wished her mother could be part of it, but that would be a risk. Daenerys liked to think her mother would be supportive but she could not be sure.

Rhaenys finished her work and brought Daenerys to her feet before the looking glass. “See? A perfect bride. A princess of House Targaryen ready to marry her prince.” She almost rolled her eyes at Rhaenys’ words but couldn’t.

A knock at the door drew her attention away from her reflection. Visenya slowly opened the door to Aegon who walked into the room. “Jon and Robb are in the godswood waiting. The castle is quiet as an empty sept. We should get going soon.”

“Just a moment Egg and we’ll be right behind you,” Rhaenys replied. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Daenerys said as she moved towards the door trying to calm her nerves.

Peering out into the hallway, Visenya waved them forward making sure none of their guards were roaming the vicinity. As they walked down the corridor towards the stairs, Allyria threw the black and red cloak over her shoulders. She forgot entirely about a cloak. The closer they got to their destination, the louder Daenerys could hear her own heartbeat.

Just as they were crossing the yard before the entrance to the godswood, her mother, Lyanna, Elia, and Ashara came walking towards their group with Ser Arthur behind them serving as their guard for the night. _Oh no! They must know and are here to stop us before we can be wed._

“Girls, a little late for a walk around the castle, is it not?” Her mother asked before her eyes turned to Daenerys. Immediately, Daenerys knew this was accidental and saw her mother’s eyes go wide upon realizing what was going on. “Daenerys, what are you…”

“Grandmother, please. Do not stop this.” Rhaenys came to her defense. “Dany is with child. If she does not marry Jon, her child will grow up to be a bastard and father will never let them marry.” Daenerys hated the idea of her child being named a bastard and wished Rhaenys had not told her mother. _Maybe she is right. Perhaps this is the best way to convince the queens of not preventing this marriage._

“I am to be a grandmother?” Lyanna asked with a lump in her throat and tears in her eyes. “And my son did not think to have me see him wed?”

“We thought you would stop it. We didn’t want father finding out before he could put an end to it,” Visenya answered her mother.

Rhaella walked up to Daenerys and she feared she would be scolded. Instead, her mother cupped her cheeks before hugging her tightly. Daenerys thought she may break down in tears there. She did not know how great it would feel to have her mother’s support until this moment. “I am happy for you. My sweet Daenerys. Your happiness is all I have ever wanted. We will not tell your brother. Not yet. We will see you married before the old gods. Not even a king will be able to undo this union.”

“Thank you, mother. You do not know how much this means to me.” Daenerys said with unshed tears ready to spill from her eyes.

As her mother released her, Lyanna pulled her in for an embrace. “Best we move along and not stand here drawing attention to this plot we are now part of,” Lyanna said as she stepped back.

Quickly, they all made their way under the arched stone entrance to the godswood. Daenerys was somewhat surprised Arthur Dayne did not sound a word of objection or leave to alert the king. As she thought about it for a brief moment, she realized he may be a Kingsguard but it was Jon who Arthur trained everyday and was now closest to. Arthur was almost as much a father to Jon as Rhaegar was. Following the party under the trees towards the weirwood, Aegon stepped before her, blocking her path.

“We must give them some time to take their places and then I am to escort you. If that is fine with you?” Aegon said as he locked arms with her.

“Of course. I do not have a father to do the honor,” Daenerys said with a bit of sadness. She wished her father had not been the evil man he was but she lived with it.

The waiting seemed like an eternity, but she knew it was only her nerves that made it seem like forever. Finally, Aegon elbowed her side and asked her, “Shall we?” She nodded in confirmation and he slowly walked beside her along the path towards the weirwood tree. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed all of their direwolves playing together next to one of the steaming pools. She had completely forgotten about Snow but now knew where her wolf was.

Daenerys turned her head from her surroundings and took in the sight before her. The path they followed was now lined with lanterns illuminating their path to the great weirwood and her family waiting there. In front of the tree stood Jon, looking as handsome as she could ever remember him. He wore his northern furred cloak over his usual black doublet and black breeches. Most southern ladies would prefer he wear more colorful attire but she wouldn’t have it any other way. Next to Jon stood Robb Stark. To the left stood her mother with Rhaenys, Elia, Ashara, and Allyria. On the right side of the path stood Lyanna, Visenya, and Ser Arthur.

“Who comes before the old gods?” Robb asked as they approached.

“Daenerys of the House Targaryen, comes here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn, and royal. She comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?” Aegon answered.

Jon stepped forward and Daenerys felt tears rolling down her cheeks again. She could not hold back or fight her joy any longer. “Jon of the House Targaryen. Heir to Summerhall. Who gives her?”

“Aegon of the House Targaryen. Her nephew.”

“Princess Daenerys, will you take this man?” Robb asked.

“I take this man.” Daenerys answered. She thought those were the words from her memory of previous northern weddings. At this point she did not care. Jon then took her hand and then they knelt before the weirwood.

Daenerys felt herself wishing for the health of their child and a long marriage filled with a dozen children. She did not worship any gods, northern, the seven, or Valyrian, but she hoped if they did exist, they would answer her prayers. After a few more moments they stood on their feet and she stared into Jon’s eyes. He held her face and brushed tears from her face before kissing her again this night. She savored his taste and found herself biting his lower lip before they slowly released one another realizing those who attended were still standing before them.

Jon then proceeded to remove her cloak and placed another, nearly identical cloak upon her shoulders with their House colors. “Daenerys, I promise to always be true and honest with you. I will never betray you and will always love you with all my heart.”

Daenerys found herself struggling for words. “I know. And I will always love you and be by your side.” She then held in a small laugh. “You always said you weren’t a poet.”

That earned a grin from Jon. “Still not a poet. The words just felt right. Now let us go back to our chambers.” Before she could say anything, he dipped an arm under her legs and lifted her off the ground carrying her from the godswood.

As they moved past those in attendance, she realized she hadn’t even paid them attention. Her eyes were locked with the grey eyes that always fascinated her and earned her love. “Our chambers?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, our chambers. We are husband and wife now.” She had never heard him speak this proudly before. It lit a fire inside of her and she couldn’t wait to make love to him.

Before she knew it, they were in his chambers and Jon gently laid her on his bed. She looked up as he moved back to the door to close it. She noticed Ghost and Snow sitting just outside guarding their quarters. Jon preceded to take his clothes off and placed both hands beside her head on the bed as he hovered over herself. She could tell he was taking in the sight of her as his eyes darted back and forth, worshipping her.

Daenerys reached up to place a hand on the back of his head, pulling him by his raven curls so she could take his lips. Their kissing was slow and careful. She wanted to make this last. Eventually, she felt Jon’s hands trail across her body in an effort to start removing her dress. Noting his struggle, Daenerys aided his task and slithered off the bed to quickly remove her dress. She was not going to let him tear this one and ruin it.

Once she was naked as her nameday, Daenerys saw Jon admiring her body as if he hadn’t seen her a thousand times before. It made her heart flutter like some innocent maid. “You’re beautiful. The most beautiful woman in the world,” Jon said as he placed his hands on her ass and pulled her into his lap. Slowly, he left a trail of kisses along her neck down to her breasts as she rocked her hips into his. His hardness was rubbing against her stomach and she was aching for him to be inside her.

Usually, he would pleasure her with his mouth to start off. This night was different. She did not want to wait and neither did he. Sliding a hand down, her fingers wrapped around his member and guided him into her entrance that was soaking for him. Just as she prepared to circle her hips and set the pace, Jon flipped them over on the bed so she was on her back. With one hand in her hair on her pillow and one hand moving from her hip to her ass, he began to slam into her. Overcome with emotions and her body losing control as she felt his fingers begin to play with her clit, Daenerys did not hold in moans and cries of ecstasy. As she started to get more breathless and feel sweat roll down her brow, with his name escaping her lips, she felt his pace quicken. Her walls started to clinch around him and she reached her peak. She let out a loud cry she thought might wake the entire keep which seemed to bring the wolf out of her love. He was now thrusting into her a fast as he could before she felt him spill into her. Out of breath, he collapsed on top of her and dipped his head into the crook of her neck as she wrapped her legs around him, holding him flush against her body.

They laid there on their bed for some time before starting over again two other times that night. Daenerys was no maid but this night felt different in her heart at least. She was now a wife and would be a mother before year’s end. They were also much louder than usual and made no effort to conceal their lovemaking. _Hopefully the walls in the keep are thicker than I think._ By the end of their exertions, she felt sleep overcoming her. Before falling into her dreams, she whispered with her head laying on his chest, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She felt Jon kiss the top of her head before she closed her eyes and let sleep take her.

 

 

**Jon Targaryen**

Feeling sunlight warm his face, Jon slowly opened his eyes, gathering his surroundings. He looked over towards his wife, feeling her heating his bed like only a dragon could. _His wife._ It felt surreal, knowing they were finally bound to each other, for the rest of their lives. He couldn’t help but admire her peaceful beauty as he slid from under her grasp and tucked a strand of hair back from her face. Sitting there for a few minutes, he just stared at her as she still slept. Noticing the fire in the hearth had died down to simmering ashes, Jon pulled the furs up to her shoulders before he moved to a pile of wood. He placed a few more pieces of wood in and stoked the fire with an iron rod to warm their room. When the fire gathered its previous strength, Jon returned to their bed.

After what felt like an hour, Daenerys’ eyes began to flutter and she began to stir. “What are you doing out of bed? Get back in here, I am freezing.”

That earned a chuckle. “No, you are not,” Jon said as he placed a hand on her face. “You just want me to get carried away and attack you again.”

“Perhaps,” she replied with a large smile.

“Perhaps,” he echoed. “Perhaps we should talk about how we will handle this. I’m sure my father will soon know and…” Jon’s speech was interrupted with three knocks at the door.

Jon gathered his wits and made for the door after getting into his breeches and a shirt. Opening the door, he found Ser Barristan Selmy standing before him in his Kingsguard armor. “My Prince. The King wishes to see you and Princess Daenerys.” Ser Barristan gave him a worried look before Jon nodded that he understood. Ser Barristan marched off down the corridor and Jon went back to Daenerys who sat up in their bed.

Sitting down on the bed before her, he placed his hand over hers. “He already knows,” Daenerys said with a tinge of disappointment.

“He will understand. You are the only woman I have ever loved and you carry our child. He married my mother for love, not duty.” Jon felt less and less confidant of his words as they left his mouth. The look Ser Barristan gave him moments ago told him all he really needed to know. His father was likely furious.

“I’m not so sure. My brother did marry your mother for love, but I fear he will not forgive us for disobeying his wishes. Once he sets his mind on something, my mother can’t even dissuade him from his chosen course.”

Jon lifted her hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on her soft skin. “You are probably right. You always are. Let’s not anger him further.” Daenerys nodded in agreement and stepped onto the cold stone floor, walking over to gather her gown. He couldn’t help but admire her beauty before it was covered. Gracefully, she opened the door and disappeared off to her room to dress for the day.

After washing his face with water from the basin opposite his bed and clothing himself so he could be presentable, Jon waved Ghost off to stay at his door while he walked to Daenerys’ room. It seemed like forever, but she eventually emerged from her room looking well rested and showed no hint of exhaustion from the previous night. They walked down the corridor to find his parent’s chambers and were greeted at the door by Ser Jaime and Ser Jonothor.

Entering the chambers, they turned to find his father sitting behind a desk with Elia and Lyanna on either side. His grandmother sat off to the side with Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur standing guard. Jon and Daenerys took their places in the empty seats before the desk.

“Father I know…”, Jon tried to start but his father raised his hand, ordering silence from him. Jon could see the rage in his father’s eyes. Rarely had he seen his father angry and never like this.

“You betrayed me and you betrayed this family. Did I not tell the both of you to end this?” His father’s voice grew louder and Jon felt guilt overwhelming him. He did not regret his actions, but he did regret the disappointment and anger he caused. This was the first time he had ever let his father down. “You were promised to another and have managed to offend two great Houses. A Prince should know his duty.”

“My duty was to Daenerys and our child,” Jon protested staring down his father.

“Your duty was to our House and your King. My sister would not be pregnant if you did not disobey me.”

Daenerys leant forward and yelled, “How can you say this? You married for love.”

“That was a different time and I could have cost our family everything. You are my son and you are supposed to be better. I raised you to do better. Your marriage to Myrcella would have secured future peace in Westeros. Now I have to explain to Robert Baratheon and Tywin Lannister why this will not happen.” Jon saw the weary look on his father’s face as he rubbed his eyes in a stressful manner. “You are lucky Daenerys is with child. I will not see a grandchild of mine be raised a bastard. Otherwise, this marriage would be annulled today. However, this betrayal will not go unanswered. You both lied to me for months and managed to involve the entire family in this conspiracy after the wedding last night. Henceforth, you will no longer hold the title of Prince of Summerhall. That honor will go to Viserys.”

Jon felt like he had the wind knocked from his lungs. The room became a blur and he was just staring off into space. He heard his mother, Elia, Rhaella, and Daenerys all yelling. All he could hear was his own heart beating like a drum and felt like he had already thrown his children’s future away. _Thrown Dany’s future away. Anything less was beneath her._

“You would steal our children’s birthright from them?” Daenerys asked incredulously.

“I would. This was your doing, not mine. And that is not your only punishment.” Jon could hear it in his father’s voice and he knew what came next would be even worse. “You both will live in exile in Essos. Summerhall is not enough. The lords of the Seven Kingdoms will know I am a King who follows his oaths. When your children come of age, they will be allowed to return to Westeros but you will remain in Essos.”

Jon was at a loss for words and felt his grip tightening on Daenerys’ hand. He saw the tears pouring from her eyes and saw the worry of a wife and mother.

“How can this be your decision?” His grandmother was now standing before his father and unleashing her fury. A fury he had never seen before. “You would banish my daughter and grandson for a slight against a king? Something you, yourself has done.”

“Mother…” His father tried to calm her.

“No. Do not speak to me. When we return to King’s Landing, I will sail for Dragonstone. I will not see or speak with you again til this wrong has been righted.” His grandmother turned and stormed out of the room.

Jon saw Elia shaking her head in disagreement with tears in her eyes. His mother did not have tears to shed. She held the look of someone ready to place a dagger in his father’s heart. “Rhaegar, do not do this. He is our son. Daenerys is your sister. Do not take away everything from our grandchildren,” his mother said.

“What would you have me do? Simply forgive them and not hold them to account? No. Our son’s actions have consequences. He is not longer a boy and he must face them.”

“It is not just our son who is being punished. What of our grandchildren?” Lyanna asked.

“I am sorry for them, but they will hopefully learn to follow one’s duty from this. Something I apparently failed to teach my son.” His father said while glaring at him.

Daenerys pulled his hand and they both stood to leave. Before turning to march towards the door, Daenerys managed to slow her sobs. “I will not forget this brother. I will never forgive you. You will never see our children.” Jon agreed with her words but still felt overcome with guilt. He knew he abandoned duty for love and now feared for an unclear future as they walked back to his room.

He held Daenerys in his arms for hours as she cried and swore never to forgive his father. Every time he tried to calm her, she only grew more furious. Jon did not know what to say. There were no words that could comfort her. He only promised he would protect her and their children, to always keep them safe, and live in comfort.

 

It had been two days since their wedding and they now stood near the southern gate ready to leave for White Harbor before their journey across the Narrow Sea to Pentos. Jon was checking to make sure his belongings were secure on his destrier and secured Longclaw with his baggage. He shook the saddle to make sure it was not going to shift as they rode. Once he felt he was done preparing for the travel, he gazed at the old and new keeps. His eyes took in Winterfell, its high walls, the people, and the memories he built here with his family.

Robb interrupted his thoughts as he came forward and embraced him like a brother. “I am not sure we will see each other again,” Robb said. “Where will you go?”

“Pentos. A magister there owes House Targaryen a great deal and we will stay at his manse before Daenerys decides on where we will live. Its not so terrible. I will not have to rule a keep or deal with liege lords in Essos. I wish you good fortune ruling Winterfell while Uncle Ned serves in King’s Landing.”

“Thank you, cousin. Do you think I am ready? I am not so sure I am.”

Jon thought about that. _Is anyone every truly ready to rule?_ “No. I don’t think anyone every truly is. But you will figure it out.” Jon hugged Robb one last time before his brother now came up with Rhaenys and Allyria.

“Brother.” Aegon simply stated before hugging him. Rhaenys was soon to follow. “I cannot believe father is doing this. I promise I will change his mind. You belong here, in Westeros. When I am King, you will be my Hand. This I swear Jon.”

“Thank you Egg. But I am not sure father will change his mind.” After releasing his siblings, he saw his older sister start to cry. Even Allyria was crying as she stepped forward and hugged him tightly.

“We will visit you. I promise brother. I will never forgive father. This isn’t fair. He lets me marry Aegon but you can’t marry Dany?” Rhaenys started to cry more before Jon pulled her in for another hug. “I love you brother. We are going to miss you.”

“I know,” Jon whispered in her ear. “I am sorry I will not see your wedding. You will make a beautiful Queen one day.” As he released her, it occurred to him it may be years before he sees his sister again.

Jon backed away and turned to his destrier. Grabbing the reins, he pulled it towards Daenerys who was saying her goodbyes to his mother, Elia, and Rhaella. His father viewed the gathering from the walkway next to his uncle with a look of contempt and disappointment still on his face. Jon saw his cousins off to the side and he waved to them. It brought a smile to his face thinking of his gift he left Arya. She named her gift Needle and that certainly earned a laugh from him. He hoped she would be careful with it. _Hopefully Uncle Ned will let her keep it when he eventually discovers it._

His farewells with Elia and his grandmother took longer than he wished. They had already spent time together earlier in the morning and it pained him that this was goodbye. When he looked into his mother’s eyes, she broke down and her rage finally turned to grief. He held her for some time before finally releasing her. He was grateful this was not King’s Landing for the vultures there would see this as weakness.

“I am sorry my son. You did not betray your House or your father. It is he who is betraying our family. I promise I will visit after your child is born and I may stay there.”

“Mother, don’t. You are a Queen. Your place is in Westeros with the rest of our family.” Jon hoped she was not serious. If she abandoned his father, that would bring about all sorts of problems. “Farewell mother.”

Jon turned to find Daenerys speaking with a somber looking Visenya. This would be his toughest farewell yet. Visenya was the person he was closest to after Daenerys and he was always protective of his little sister. She always looked up to him and tried to impress him at every turn, whether it be riding, archery, or swordsmanship. Closing the distance between them, she jumped into his arms and held him with a stronger hold than everyone else that day.

“Before you say anything brother, I am travelling to Essos and will find you both the first chance I get. I want to see my nephew or niece.” When his sister was set on something, nothing could deter her and he could see she was determined to follow through with this promise. “And don’t think you can talk me out of it.”

“I wouldn’t dare to sister. I wish we had more time to talk about this,” Jon said before pulling Visenya towards Daenerys, away from everyone else. “Daenerys told me about your true feelings. We discussed it and if you do not find yourself a husband before you see us again, I will marry you.”

Visenya’s eyes grew big and he was finally starting to notice and admire her beauty. Her amethyst eyes disarmed him just like Daenerys’ always did. He questioned whether he made the right decision on the matter until now. It felt like a betrayal to Daenerys to take another wife before now, even when she insisted it was not the case. “You are sure?” Visenya asked as she started to worry.

Over the past two days, he had struggled with his decision regarding his sister. Initially, he resisted the idea until Daenerys let him know how much Visenya truly loved him. He did not share the same connection to Visenya, but he decided he could build a relationship with her in time and love her as he did Daenerys.

“I am.” He grinned when she jumped back in his arms for a moment. When he set her down on the ground again, he kissed her on the cheek knowing anything further would set off further chaos in their family. Daenerys closed in on Visenya and hugged her again, knowing she would not see her best friend and sister for some time.

Finally, Jon mounted his destrier and gave Ser Arthur a look, telling the Kingsguard they were ready to depart for White Harbor. Daenerys was soon to follow, atop her white mare and riding at his side. They both looked over their shoulders trying to stay strong as they left their family behind. Even the hate in Jon’s heart for his father dissipated as he saw him standing next to his Uncle Ned and Uncle Benjen who had appeared to see them off. He hoped he would see Winterfell again but soon buried the thought for it would do him no good.

Riding out the gates of Winterfell, through Winter Town, and onto the Kingsroad, Jon started to contemplate the future. His future lay in lands he had never stepped on before and he needed to come to terms with it. As long as he had Daenerys, he knew the future looked a little brighter and he would fight to ensure she lived the life she so deserved.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I could have expanded on Jon's decision to accept Visenya, but whenever I wrote it out, it never seemed right. At this point he still loves her like a sister and a bit more, but wants to make her happy in the future should she not find anyone else. As for Rhaegar, I think many will hate him after this but I will warn you he will not be the villain in this story.
> 
> On a side note, I think I did a poor job establishing the close bond Jon shares with Aegon. I definitely should have had more scenes with the two of them.
> 
> And here is a helpful direwolf cheat sheet for those overwhelmed by the number of ones I added to the story:  
> Snow (daenerys) white  
> Silver (Visenya) white/grey  
> Shadow (Rhaenys) black  
> Winter (Allyria) white/grey  
> Zokla (Aegon) black/grey


	7. Pentos & the Kingsroad

**Jon Targaryen**

Jon now stood overlooking the waves from the Narrow Sea crushing against the Pentoshi shore from the terrace of Illyrio Mopatis’ walled manse. They had arrived on their ship from White Harbor only a fortnight ago and it felt a lifetime ago since they left Winterfell. Pentos proved to be less impressive than he had hoped. It was definitely different compared to King’s Landing. Its square, bricked towers and tiled roofs were distinctive.

What disappointed Jon wasn’t the city or buildings themselves, but rather its people, specifically its rich magisters who practiced slavery even if they called it something else. Part of him wanted to leave this manse for he did not like or trust his host, but he also knew Illyrio was the only host that held some loyalty to his family. _Can anyone who works hand in hand with the Spider ever be trusted?_

During the short time they had spent in Pentos, Illyrio introduced them to the magisters that held the most sway in the city and controlled the surrounding lands. Mopatis even encouraged him to take an active role in the politics of Pentos. He mentioned something about being a Targaryen Prince and a natural leader. Jon and Daenerys both concluded he only sought more power for himself and thought they might serve as his puppets. Jon had also heard how the Pentoshi treated their so-called princes throughout history and he certainly wanted to avoid the road that would lead to ritual self-sacrifice.

His thoughts were interrupted when he felt Daenerys’ soft hand cover his own resting on the waist-high stone wall before them. He turned his head from peering out at the palm trees blowing in the wind and looked down at Dany leaning her head against his shoulder. He thanked the gods she was here with him. He missed Dragonstone, Winterfell, and even King’s Landing, but she was his home, not some castle. One benefit he appreciated from living in Pentos was the wardrobe Daenerys now wore. Her dresses were thinner and more revealing. Just looking at her form, he fought the urge to rip off her dress and take her right there. What he did not appreciate was anyone else in the manse could see her in this dress.

“You hate this place.” She didn’t even need to ask. Daenerys knew him and he could never hide his true thoughts from her.

“Aye,” Jon sighed before turning to face her and placing his hands on her hips. “I don’t think you do either. But where could we go?”

“Lys. It is supposed to be beautiful and our Valyrian ancestry could help us it in with its culture.” Daenerys said with little confidence in her voice.

“I know you would hate it there. The Lysene own even more slaves than the people here. I think we will have to make due here. I don’t trust Illyrio but he isn’t the worst of the magisters here. We can build our own manse outside the city along the coast, much like this one.”

She stood on her toes and kissed him. “That sounds nice,” she said as she released his lips. “Our children can play in the gardens and grow up along the sea. Its not Dragonstone but I have to admit the weather is nicer here.” After a brief pause, she continued, “What do you think of Ser Jorah?”

“When I first met him, I hated him or at least I thought I did. He dishonored House Mormont and fled my uncle’s justice. Now, I don’t know. This is not Westeros and I feel no obligation to carry out that justice. I don’t think he was lying when he said he regretted what he had done. I offered him Longclaw.” Before he could say more, Daenerys cut him off.

“You did what?” She looked like she was ready to bathe him in dragonfire with her eyes.

“He did not accept. Said he gave up his right to the sword. It doesn’t feel right. Longclaw belongs in the hands of a Mormont. Not a Targaryen.” Jon shook his head. He never understood what Lord Commander Mormont saw in him or why he would part with such a precious family heirloom.

“Well until we come across the Lord of Bear Island, don’t try to give it away again. Unless we find Blackfyre or Dark Sister by some miracle, Longclaw should pass to our son.”

“You think you carry our son?” Jon asked, wondering what his child may look like. _Will they be all Daenerys, himself, or a mix?_

“I am not sure. But we will have one. I promise.” Her words brought a smile to his face and he kissed her brow before pulling her head against his chest.

Their embrace was short-lived when he heard the voice of their host coming from behind them. “My Prince! My Prince! There you are. Princess Daenerys. The Dothraki have arrived to collect their tribute. I thought you may want to attend.” That was another thing Jon did not understand about this land and its people. He would not tolerate a foreigner extorting his people.

“I don’t…”

Daenerys interrupted his words, “We will.”

The magister nodded with a great smile on his face. Slowly, they made their way through the large manse, past several servants and guards. When they reached the front entrance to the manse, Jon saw some of the other magisters who held power in Pentos but he did not remember their names. After waiting for some time, he finally saw a group of a dozen riders or so riding hard along the stone wall down the road before them.

As the riders came to a halt, the largest of them rode his horse forward and started to speak with Illyrio in a harsh language. As he observed the encounter, Ser Jorah stepped next to Daenerys and looked at the Dothraki rider. “Khal Drogo. Some say he is the greatest fighter in the world. He commands a horde that numbers one hundred thousand and he has never lost a battle. The Dothraki cut their braid when they see defeat.” Jon saw this man’s braid travelled all the way down his back.

“What are they saying?” Daenerys asked as he saw Illyrio continue to speak with the Khal.

“The Khal is demanding a larger tribute. More horses, food, and supplies for his horde.” Jorah answered.

As soon as Jorah finished, Jon saw this Khal Drogo look in their direction and point at them. He wondered what he said because it looked like their host was pleading for something. After a few more moments of the two speaking Dothraki, Illyrio walked back towards them and the other magisters moved closer to listen.

“Khal Drogo is asking near double what we give the Dothraki when they appear outside our walls.” Jon wasn’t concerned about that considering these men appeared to be able to afford it. Then Illyrio showed a hesitant look before continuing, “And he demands the Princess. He does not have a Khaleesi and said she would do. I am sorry my Prince. I don’t know what to say.”

“Tell him no.” Jon said trying to contain his anger at the insult.

“I am not sure you understand the Dothraki.”

“It is not my city, but you all should decide on paying the tribute amongst yourselves. But you can tell him he will not touch my wife and can find a wife elsewhere.” Jon then stood in front of Daenerys so the Dothraki could not see her.

The six magisters then started to debate amongst themselves. They were cowards and their words proved it. No doubt they had a mind for trade and business, but Jon knew they lacked courage. When they stopped arguing, Mopatis walked back to them. “The magisters said they will name you King if you were to kill the Khal and his bloodriders. Should you decline, they insist on handing you both over. Pentos does not have the strength to withstand a Khalasar. I can help you flee. There are secret passages, but I would need to flee with you.”

Jon couldn’t believe the situation they found themselves in. Jon was ready to leave this city. He did not want to fight or put Daenerys at risk. He was unable to answer Illyrio because the Khal dismounted from his horse and killed two of the guards with his curved blade.

Reacting to the threat, Jon unsheathed Longclaw and marched up to the imposing Khal Drogo. Jon could not lie. His opponent was larger and stronger and quick for his size. Without time to think or plan his attack, the Dothraki raised his blade and swung several times. Each swing, Jon managed to match. The strikes were fast and strong. Several angles of attack came and Jon started to pick up on his opponent’s style. Jon kept to his defensive strategy, trying to figure out his opponent and not tire out.

The Khal was swinging his blade toward Jon’s legs and he could sense the man was slowing. Jon immediately started to push the man back, striking at his enemy with Longclaw. Most of his blows were aimed at Drogo’s torso until he moved as fast as he could to cut the Dothraki’s knees. Jon felt the blood spray everywhere and remembered what Ser Arthur had taught him. With the Khal incapacitated, Jon ran his blade through the man’s chest to finish the fight. The intimidating figure that once stood before him was now a corpse that held a look of disbelief knowing a smaller opponent brought him down.

Gathering his surroundings, Jon made sure to spot Daenerys. Ser Jorah was standing guard in front of her with his blade drawn and their two direwolves had joined them, protecting her as well. Knowing she was safe, Jon turned to see the magisters who were visiting Illyrio had been slain, trying to flee the bloodshed. Wishing it would end there with their leader defeated, three of the Dothraki threw away any hope he had when they charged at him. Ducking each of their blows and sidestepping them when they lunged towards him, Jon made short work of one, cutting his neck open. He eliminated the second Dothraki rider by driving his sword into the rider’s side. The third one was reckless and wild with his attacks. He left himself exposed almost immediately and Jon drove Longclaw through his chest.

Looking at the four Dothraki dead on the ground, Jon admired their lack of fear but felt they lacked skill and discipline on the ground. He concluded they must be fearsome on a horse, if the tales of their skill on the battlefield are to be believed. Two Dothraki riders remained on their horses but did not flee. They looked shock at the loss of their leader. As Jon tightened his grip on his sword, ready for another fight, the Dothraki riders dismounted and got on their knees before him.

Jon didn’t understand what they were doing or what they were saying as Daenerys came to his side with Ghost and Snow baring their teeth at the Dothraki. “They only follow strength,” Ser Jorah said behind them. “You killed their Khal and his three bloodriders. Now they will follow you.”

_Why would they follow me? I am not Dothraki._ Unsure of how to handle this, Jon pulled Daenerys flush against his side and looked to her for an answer.

 

 

**Rhaegar Targaryen**

They were finally back in the South and away from the cold of Winterfell. From what he could tell, they would reach the Crossroads early on the morrow. Rhaegar was thankful his trip north gained him the Hand he wanted. Everything else about the journey appeared to be a disaster. His son and sister put him in a terrible position and he saw exile as the only option that could appease Houses Baratheon and Lannister. In doing so, he managed to earn the scorn of his entire family. Viserys would be happy, but Rhaegar knew that was not a good thing.

Thankfully Ned was travelling with him and entertained Robert Baratheon. Rhaegar disliked everything about Robert. The man was likely to fuck and drink himself to an early grave. Worst of all, the lord never tried to hide his lust for Lyanna. He never said anything or committed an act that could be considered an offence, but Rhaegar could see it in Robert’s eyes.

With the caravan at a stop along the Kingsroad, Rhaegar walked past the oak trees along the road and down the hill towards a small table with food covering it. There sat Ned Stark and two Stark guards a few paces away. Rhaegar took the seat across from his good-brother. “Any word from Winterfell? Has your son’s condition improved?” Rhaegar was concerned this might have prevented his Hand from riding south.

With a grim look, Ned answered, “No. He still hasn’t awoken.”

“He is a strong lad, I am sure he will recover.” Rhaegar could tell the words gave little comfort. “Lyanna told me he wishes to be a member of the Kingsguard one day. When he recovers, he could serve as a squire to one of the Kingsguard or perhaps Aegon.”

“Thank you, your Grace.” Ned turned at the sound of horses galloping towards them across the field and someone yelling something he could not understand. “It appears my niece found something on her hunt.”

Rhaegar saw his daughter laughing at something Aegon said and it warmed his heart to see her smile for once. “Visenya, what did you kill?” he yelled. The feeling was short-lived for when Visenya heard his voice, her smile instantly turned to a frown and she eyed him like she couldn’t stand the sight of him. Ignoring his inquiry, Visenya rode past their table and up towards the Kingsroad. “My daughter hates me.” _Rhaenys also hates me. At least Aegon and my wives still speak some words to me_. His mother stuck to her wheelhouse and hadn’t spoken to him since they left Winterfell.

“My niece is just upset. As you know, she was always close to Jon and Daenerys. Time will pass and she will forgive you,” Ned spoke with confidence.

“I wish that were so, but I find it unlikely. Lyanna told me Visenya is in love with Jon and she plans to sail east when she is of age.” Ned held a stunned look and Rhaegar knew then he did not know of Visenya’s feelings. “I hope your children bring you less trouble.”

“Aye. I am sure my daughter Arya will bring me problems. Sansa would marry her betrothed now if she could. Arya is less enthusiastic about the idea of marrying some lord in the years to come.” Rhaegar couldn’t help but smirk at that. She sounds like his wife before they met.

“When we get to King’s Landing, watch your back. You are the Hand but do not trust anyone. It is a city full of liars and finding the truth will be difficult. Jon Arryn served me well and he was also a man of honor, but he sometimes failed to see a foe hiding in plain sight.” Rhaegar hoped his words would prepare Ned.

“Thank you for the advice, your Grace. I never asked, but how were Lysa and her boy?”

Rhaegar could only shake his head. “I didn’t say anything in front of your wife, but her sister is not well. And the boy is worse. I welcome stupid lords who are easy to influence. I fear the young Lord Arryn will be stupid and weak. His mother is too protective of the boy.”

“I can’t believe Jon Arryn would allow his son…”

Rhaegar stopped Ned before he could finish. “Jon Arryn tried his best, but I fear his duties as Hand occupied too much of his time. Do you regret riding south now?”

Ned laughed at his question. “No, my King.”

 

 

**Daenerys Targaryen**

She had never been more terrified in her life. Watching Jon fight the Dothraki made her fear he would be taken from her before their child could be born. After he killed Khal Drogo she stopped worrying for his safety. Drogo was supposedly a great warrior and Jon seemed effortless in killing the man. _He was trained by the Sword of the Morning._ When the other three Dothraki riders fell, Daenerys rushed to Jon’s side to make sure he was alright.

Her fear turned to pride as the two remaining Dothraki pledged to fight and follow Jon. Ser Jorah said the Dothraki only follow the strong and Jon had proved his strength. Daenerys knew then, they were born to lead these people. She thought they were supposed to rule Summerhall, but now knew that was wrong.

“I do not want to lead them. They aren’t our people,” Jon said. She looked at him wondering why he looked sad in this moment. He was filled with anger just before the fight. “Tell them to ride back to their lands and leave the city unharmed.”

“No.” Daenerys commanded Ser Jorah. “Jon, if you lead the Dothraki, you can stop countless injustices. If they go back to their horde without a leader, more blood will be shed and who knows what will happen to Pentos and all the villages between here and the Dothraki Sea. Take up Illyrio’s offer. Lead this city, but we can dictate the terms.”

“Daenerys, I just want to live in peace. For our children to live in peace and want for nothing.”

She cupped his cheek and looked deep into his grey eyes. “We will. Our children will. We will create that peace.”

“If we do this, we do it together. I want you to rule by my side,” Jon said with conviction. She felt ready to take him right then but controlled herself. She was grateful to have a husband who loved her and respected her enough to share power with him.

“Together,” she echoed his words. Turning to Jorah, she continued, “Ser Jorah, I would ask of your sword and council if you will give it.” She hoped he would say yes. They needed someone who could speak the common tongue and Dothraki. Plus, she liked the old knight for he reminded her of the North with his unmistakable accent.

“It would be my honor, Khaleesi,” he said as he got on one knee.

“Khaleesi?” Daenerys questioned. _Another Dothraki word she would need to learn._

“Yes, you are now a wife to a Khal.”

“Rise Ser Jorah. Ask these two for their names.” She gestured towards the two Dothraki still present. Ser Jorah proceeded to speak in the tongue that sounded so different to their own or High Valyrian.

“Rakharo and Kovarro, Khaleesi,” Ser Jorah answered.

“Rakharo, Kovarro.” Jon declared with a firm tone. “Ser Jorah, tell them we will ride for the camp in one hour and make sure the Khalasar does not fall into chaos.”

As Jorah finished translating the orders to Rakharo and Kovarro, he walked back to her and Jon. “I must warn you, in order to lead the Dothraki, you will need to travel to Vaes Dothrak and see the Dosh Khaleen.” Daenerys nodded in acceptance. _More Dothraki culture I will need to learn and understand._

“Magister Illyrio,” Daenerys called their host to come forward. “Your fellow magisters mentioned something about naming my husband their king. I think we shall take you up on the offer.”

Instantly, she saw the panic on his face. “My Princess, I don’t see how promises from dead men will be received from the remaining magisters in the city.”

“They will accept their new reality. There is a khalasar at the gates. You’ve said it yourself. Pentos cannot withstand the Dothraki. The Dothraki follow us now. And be sure to know, there will be changes coming for this city.”

“My Princess.” Illyrio started to object again.

“Don’t worry, Magister. We will place you in charge of the city in our stead while we ride for Vaes Dothrak. And do not call me King. I am a Prince in Westeros and I will remain a Prince in Essos. However, I will not be like the princes of old in this city.” Jon told Illyrio.

“And one of the first changes for Pentos will be the outlaw of slavery.” Daenerys told the man. Knowing he would try to protest, she continued, “Do not try to lie to us and call the servants of this city free. They are not. You will see to it they are all paid a fair wage. We will let you determine the wage. Do not disappoint us.” She wanted to let him prove himself. If he established fair wages for the people of Pentos, he will have proved his loyalty. If he has the rich pay these so-called free people below fair pay, they will deal with him and the others on their return.

“It will be done my Princess.” Illyrio bowed and turned around to walk into his manse.

“One more thing Magister. Doreah. If she agrees, I would like her to stay by my side.” Daenerys enjoyed her company. Doreah was really the closest thing she had to a friend in Pentos and she needed someone to help her dress, bathe, and fix her hair.

Illyrio acknowledged her wishes and walked away. Snow started to yip and run around her feet while Ghost stayed at Jon’s side, silent as ever. Jon smiled looking at her and she walked into his arms. “I think you are born to rule Dany. You always get what you want.”

She let out a small laugh. “I do. I hope to be an even better mother.” Now her face was buried in Jon’s chest and noticed the blood still on Jon’s clothes.

“You will.” He kissed her brow and when he withdrew, he noticed her reaction to the blood. “I am sorry. Your dress is ruined now.”

“It doesn’t matter. I have countless more. Let us get ready and pack our things. We have a Dothraki horde waiting for us.”

 

Daenerys was surprised how quickly they collected their belongings and left Illyrio’s manse. It helped they had not been their long. She was thankful Doreah took up her offer to accompany her and helped her pack for the journey despite her direwolf’s best attempts to get in the way. Ser Jorah stood guard outside her room. He seemed to trust their host even less than they did or just did not care to hide his suspicions.

Just as they were ready to mount the horses and ride for the Dothraki camp outside the walls of Pentos, Daenerys saw Illyrio walking out of the front entrance of his manse with eight servants carrying four wooden boxes and placing them at their feet. “Prince Jon, Princess Daenerys. My gift to you.” Illyrio stated as the servants opened the boxes to reveal three dragon eggs in each. “A dozen dragon eggs. From the shadowlands beyond Asshai. The ages have turned them to stone, but they will always be beautiful.” They were a grand gift, she could not deny. She picked up the closest one to her and stared at its black surface with red swirls in awe. The longer she held the egg, the more she felt heat coming from the egg. _I must be going mad._

When she looked over at Jon, he held a dark grey egg. She saw him give the egg a weird look before placing it back in its box. The servants proceeded to place the boxes in one of the wagons they were leaving with. “Thank you.” She said to their host. “Come see us on the morrow at the Dothraki camp. We still have much to discuss about Pentos and how it shall be ruled.”

With the manse being just outside the city of Pentos, the ride to the Dothraki camp was a short one. The road to the camp was empty and Daenerys wondered if that was the norm or just a result of Pentoshi wishing to avoid the Dothraki. She wished it was just fear of their prowess in battle, but she knew by reputation, the Dothraki were known for their slaughter and rape of weaker people.

After riding through some woods and cresting a hill, they finally caught sight of the Khalasar on an open field. The camp seemed to go on forever. Daenerys had never seen so many people in one place. King’s Landing had a larger population but the buildings and size of the city prevented one from seeing so many within sight. As they entered the camp, she wondered who looked more shocked, them or the Dothraki. Jon led their caravan through the camp with her at his side. Right behind them rode Rakharo, Kovarro, and Jorah. Snow and Ghost ran alongside their horses growling at anyone who stepped forward with ill intent.

Daenerys could not believe what she saw in the camp. The Dothraki seemed to not mind coupling in the open, in front of others. And the men who were not taking a woman from behind were fighting each other in brutal matches. She felt a small feeling of doubt creep into her thoughts. _How should we hope to lead these people and change some of their ways? We are foreigners to them._ That doubt disappeared when Daenerys viewed gaping mouths and speechless people lining their path.

Jon pulled the reins of Khal Drogo’s horse behind him with the Khal’s corpse lying across the saddle. The message was clear to the Khalasar how their Khal met his end. Rakharo and Kovarro pulled horses carrying the bodies of the three deceased bloodriders. Jon didn’t like the idea of parading the corpses around like trophies but Ser Jorah counseled them to show strength and burn the corpses to show respect to Dothraki culture.

After riding past thousands of Dothraki, they finally reached the center of the camp and slid from their saddles in front of the largest tent in the camp. Daenerys concluded the tent must have belonged to the Khal. Rakharo gestured for two women to come forward and spoke some words to them.

“Khaleesi, my name is Irri,” the copper skinned woman with brown eyes and black hair introduced herself. Daenerys thought she was perhaps one of the more beautiful women she had seen in the camp. “We are here to serve you and attend to your needs.” She was glad the woman spoke the common tongue. Ser Jorah could not serve as their only translator.

“My name is Jhiqui,” the second woman spoke up. She also had copper skin, brown eyes, and black hair. She was taller than Irri and younger, similar to her own age. Daenerys also thought her to be more beautiful.

“She does not know the common tongue. She is Lhazareen and only speaks Dothraki.” Irri informed her. Daenerys smiled at Jhiqui who looked miserable. Daenerys figured the girl must have been taken from her home if she was Lhazareen.

“Thank you Irri. The girl over there is named Doreah. Help her bring my things to my tent.” Irri and Jhiqui then made their way over to her handmaiden.

When Daenerys turned to look where Jon went, she saw him next to Ser Jorah. A crowd had gathered around them. Most of those standing before them looked to be the warriors trying to find the measure of their new Khal. Jon waved Daenerys to come stand beside him.

As he moved his arm behind her back and pulled her by the waist to his side, Jon turned to Ser Jorah. “Tell them Khal Drogo is dead. His bloodriders are dead. I, Jon of House Targaryen, will now lead this Khalasar. Daenerys of House Targaryen, is their Khaleesi and her word is my word.” Jorah started to echo Jon’s words in Dothraki. “We will not sack the city of Pentos. We now rule the city. Any who wish to leave, feel free to do so. We will not stop you. If you follow us, I promise this great Khalasar will only grow larger and stronger.”

More than half of the men listening nodded in approval at her husband’s words but there were those that held looks of doubt and suspicion. Daenerys thought about what the Dothraki were drawn to. Strength and the conquest of others. It was then she decided to speak up, “When we ride for Vaes Dothrak, we will lay claim to all the Khalasars. For too long, the Dothraki have been led by small minded men raping and destroying this small village and that small village. No more. We will end these Khals and no longer shall you be led by such men. As your Khaleesi, I promise you the world. When we reach Vaes Dothrak, the Dothraki will be one Khalasar. One people.” As her speech went on, the warriors screamed louder and louder, raising their curved blades in the air.

While the Dothraki chanted, Daenerys turned to look up at Jon and saw how proud he was of her. His eyes were devouring and she knew they would get little sleep this night. They needed to assimilate themselves with their new people, but making love under the stars would not be something she was willing to do. Even if she wished, Jon would protest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fast-paced chapter. Did not want to waste any time in Pentos, so accelerated their takeover of the Dothraki. I know some will not like how quickly and easily they killed Drogo and took the khalasar. Since there was more direwolves, there had to be more dragon eggs (only for targs).  
> And if there is any confusion, Lyanna and Elia are pissed at Rhaegar but will still talk to him.
> 
> Small Council:  
> Hand - Ned Stark  
> Master of Whispers - Varys  
> Master of Coin - Petyr Baelish  
> Master of Laws - Stannis Baratheon  
> Master of Ships - Monford Velaryon  
> LC of Kingsguard - Barristan Selmy  
> Advisor - Robert Baratheon  
> Advisor - Jon Connington


	8. Norvos & Wolves in King's Landing

**Daenerys Targaryen**

Now that they were just outside the city of Norvos, Daenerys couldn’t help but be impressed by the great distances the Dothraki cover in such a short amount of time. Jon mentioned he believed it would take them another sennight to make it to the city. The Valyrian road through the Velvet Hills made for an uneventful ride and there was little to see. The hills were small and the they came across a few small villages. Ghoyan Drohe was a ruined and empty city they passed through. It may have been a great city once but her ancestors’ dragons reduced the city to a smoldering ruin and time had seen to its further withering.

During their time in the camp outside Pentos until now, Ser Jorah and Irri spent as much time as they could teaching Jon and herself the Dothraki language. She had taken to it quickly, but she could not say the same for Jon. She could tell he was less enthusiastic about the lessons and was more focused on keeping their Khalasar from raiding and raping anyone they came across.

One thing that still bothered her was the city of Pentos. They were the rulers of the city but had already left it behind. The idea of leaving Illyrio in charge of the city was a gamble but one they would have to take if they wanted to lead the Dothraki. It was left unsaid, but Daenerys and Jon made sure Illyrio understood they would return with their Khalasar. Any rampant corruption or the return of slavery, even if it was not called that, would be met with justice. Jon left Illyrio with instructions on the collection of taxes. She was not aware of the specifics, but he told her the taxes they would collect were lower than those paid to the Iron Throne. Jon said their rule had just begun and thought it best not to give the Pentoshi good reason to revolt. Several of the magisters killed at Illyrio’s manse had no heirs and Daenerys had their wealth, property, and businesses distributed amongst the remaining magisters of significance. Daenerys hated the idea of giving the gold to the rich and not the poor but knew she needed to secure peace for the city.

Another command Jon gave Illyrio before departing Pentos was to use all the taxes collected while they were away and improve the city’s defenses. Pentos had a reputation for being the weakest of the Free Cities and Jon would not allow that to continue. _I know Jon and he would never allow people he ruled to be called weak._ Should any of the poor starve, Daenerys insisted they be fed by coin collected from taxes. One thing that did give Daenerys confidence Illyrio would not betray them was the wealth he has attained from trading with Westeros. Being friendly with House Targaryen has made him rich and she saw it to be in his best interest not to sour the relationship.

What did provide Daenerys comfort was the child growing inside her. Irri had pointed out her body was changing as she helped her dress this morning. The changes were small but Daenerys knew her handmaiden was right. She held no gods but Daenerys prayed for a child with Jon’s raven curls and grey eyes.

Atop her mare with Snow at her side, Daenerys now looked down at the river Noyne and the city of Norvos on its eastern banks. Jon was next to her on his black destrier, similar to his own in Westeros, looking at city. They both were surprised at the appearance of the city. The lower portion of the city looked like it was full of life. A few hundred feet above it stood a walled portion of the city that had a massive stone stair connecting it to the lower city. From what she could recall, Arianne Martell had mentioned the stone stair was called the Sinner’s Steps and the upper section of Norvos held a temple.

“Rider ahead, Khal!” Kovarro yelled in back to Jon. Daenerys could see a rider in all black clothing riding forward atop a brown horse at some speed.

“Prince Jon of House Targaryen! Princess Daenerys of House Targaryen! My name is Sivero. My sister is Lady Mellario, wife to Prince Doran of House Martell. I come to welcome you to the great city of Norvos.” The man spoke the common tongue well and Daenerys nodded her head.

“Thank you for receiving us. I assure you we are only passing through to Vaes Dothrak. No harm will come to your city or its people. You have my word.” Jon said in a firm tone.

Sivero urged his horse closer and Kovarro raised his blade for a moment until Jon waved him off. “That is why I have come to see you. I come here with a proposal on behalf of my family.” The man looked around before lowering his voice so only she and Jon could hear. “Do not pass through. Enter the city and take it.”

“Why would you give your city to us?” Daenerys asked. “We did not come here as conquerors.”

“No, you did not. We have heard of what happened in Pentos. You now rule the city and command a Khalasar. We also hear you have ended slavery in Pentos. A noble deed. I am here to offer you a chance to perform another noble deed. Take the city and help my family remove the priests who rule it.” Daenerys saw the man try to put on a calm face, but could sense his desperation.

“Any why would we do that? Why should I risk any of our people’s lives to help you eliminate your rivals?” Jon asked.

“Because these priests have preyed upon the weak of this city, kill any who oppose them, and maintain control of the city with slave soldiers. I hear you have a distaste for slavery. All my family asks is the support of your Dothraki and we will easily have the numbers to take the city. We just ask for you to help us defeat the soldiers who protect the priests. Our own men will do the rest.” Sivero was not lying. She had heard similar stories of these priests from Arianne Martell.

Jon turned to Daenerys. Without saying anything, he was asking her opinion on the course of action they should take. She closed her eyes and nodded in approval.

“We will provide the men to help defeat the soldiers who guard the city.” Jon’s words earned a smile from Sivero. “They will not take part in any looting or killing of the smallfolk. What do the other noble families of Norvos think of this? Or are you acting on your own?”

“The right families are aligned with us. There are three magisters we will need to eliminate. They’re power is derived from the priests who rule the city and they have everything to lose in this plot.” Sivero replied. “Once the city is yours, all we ask is to rule the city in your name when you are gone. We will even pay a higher tax than Pentos.”

“No slavery in Norvos and the smallfolk earn honest pay.” Daenerys dictated. “We will have more terms to lay out on how we will want the city ruled.”

“Now tell us. How do we send our men into the city unnoticed? I do not want to waste my men in a siege.” Jon asked.

“They will ride through the main gate. If they ride with me, my men will see me and begin to remove the guards who may stop us.”

“Kovarro. Rakharo. We are taking the city. Follow this man. We ride through the main gate and his men will lead you through the city. Kill the soldiers who try and stop you. Do not rape or pillage the city.” Jon ordered the two. Kovarro and Rakharo acknowledged the order and rode back to the riders behind them to get their Khalasar ready for a fight. “Ser Jorah, ride with them into the city. We need someone to translate.”

“My Prince.” Ser Jorah answered and then pulled the reins of his destrier around to ride to the Dothraki getting ready for the attack.

Daenerys saw Jon turn his horse around and she instantly knew what he was planning to do. “Where do you think you are going? If what Sivero said is true, this city will fall before dusk. If he is a liar, this is a trap and you will not risk your life.” She scolded him. When she saw him try to respond, Daenerys continued, “I am your wife, your Princess, your Khaleesi. You are staying here.”

 

Norvos fell as easily as their new ally predicted. Their Dothraki entered the city without opposition and she watched as the men ascended the great stone stairs to the upper section of the city from across the Noyne. As the city was taken, she noticed Jon tighten his grip on Longclaw occasionally. She wished he was not so eager to enter the fray of battle and risk his own life.

While the lower part of the city was under their control in less than an hour, they had to wait until nightfall to hear they had the entire city. When she heard the accounts of the fighting from Kovarro and Rakharo, Daenerys decided it was generous to call the taking of Norvos a battle. The slave soldiers either threw down their swords and shields or fought and met a quick end. None of their men were even killed. Some of their Norvosi allies died in the coup, but Sivero’s men saw to the deaths of the priests and rival magisters who ruled the city.

Now Daenerys stood on the balcony of Lady Mellario’s manse, feeling the morning breeze cool her skin, and observing the city come to life with shops starting to open and fishermen sailing their boats down the river. When she felt Jon’s warm hands snake around her sides and come to rest on her belly, she knew she failed to sneak out of their bed without waking him.

“Irri said my body is starting to change. Soon you will have a wife fat with child.” Daenerys said as she backed into his warmth.

“I will have a beautiful wife carrying our child. You are the most beautiful woman in the world and that will not change with a child growing inside you.” She couldn’t help but smile at his words. Having children would be worth it but Daenerys did not lie to herself. She did not like the idea of sitting around and being catered to. She feared her body may never be the same and perhaps Jon would not look at her with the same passion he did every day.

“It is likely our child will be born when we reach Vaes Dothrak. I worry.” She said as they turned to walk back to their room and prepare for the day. “I made many promises to our Khalasar. How will we possibly unite the Dothraki? What will happen if we fail? What if…”

“Let us worry about that when the time comes. You can be quite inspiring when you are passionate and people are listening to you.” Jon answered while he changed into a new gambeson.

“They were inspired by my words because they believe in you. They believe in your strength.” Jon shook his head dismissively, not believing in his true worth. This always drove her mad. Jon never thought himself to be a great leader or fighter. Whenever she complimented his skill with the sword, he would compare himself to Ser Arthur Dayne. When she brought up his leadership ability, he would compare himself to Rhaegar or Aegon. In his eyes, he always fell short of greater men.

Daenerys spent the rest of her morning preparing for their meeting with Sivero and Lady Mellario. She was eager to meet Arianne Martell’s mother and plan for how Norvos would be governed after their departure. While they did not hold leverage over their family like they did Illyrio, she hoped both of their families’ connection to House Martell would prevent any clashes.

“Prince Jon. Princess Daenerys. It is nice to finally meet you. The tales of your beauty do not do you justice.” Lady Mellario came to greet them at her family’s manse. Her manse was grand and the wealth she held was obvious to the eyes.

“Thank you, Lady Mellario. I see where Arianne gets her beautiful looks.” Daenerys returned the compliment, noting the similarities in Arianne and Lady Mellario’s build. It made her curious why Doran Martell would let his wife spend time away from him. She decided that was a subject she best avoid.

They moved to take seats around a great table filled with various fruits and breads. She sat opposite Lady Mellario and Sivero with Jon at her side. On her other side sat Jorah, Rakharo, and Kovarro.

“My brother told me you had already worked out the taxes we will pay? Good.”

“It is not just the taxes we are concerned with. You agreed for us to rule Norvos. Under our rule, this city will no longer tolerate slavery. And it was made very clear, the city’s defenses are poor. I am not ordering the creation of a standing army but Norvos should have a competent city watch. Ser Jorah has a document listing the laws we enacted in Pentos.” Jon told their audience before Jorah presented the laws they planned to establish.

“Consider the matter of the city watch done. We agree that the city’s defenses are lacking. And these laws, from what I can see should not be a serious problem.” Lady Mellario said as she read over the document. “So, how is my daughter? I hope she is well.”

“Last we saw her was over a year ago in King’s Landing my Lady. I believe she has remained in Dorne since.” Daenerys responded.

“Oh, I presumed she would return to visit Princess Rhaenys. I only left Sunspear six moons ago and she spoke of visiting her cousins again.” Lady Mellario raised her cup of wine, “To House Targaryen and Norvos.”

They all raised their cups and drank to the future of Norvos. The more Daenerys thought of the city, the more she realized she missed home. She did not like this place and felt a stranger to its people. Sitting in this manse, discussing the city’s problems and politics, Daenerys felt her first real desire to return to Westeros. _If I look back, I am lost. Our present and future is here in Essos._

 

 

**Visenya Targaryen**

“I still can’t believe Sansa is still in love with Joffrey,” Arya said as they walked along the walls of the Red Keep overlooking the Blackwater.

“I am sure Nymeria is safe in the Riverlands along with Lady. Joffrey is a little shit who will get what is coming for him.” Visenya hoped her words would raise her cousin’s spirits. The incident with the wolves along the Kingsroad was angering to dwell on. Arya was smart enough to send Nymeria away and Visenya made sure Sansa’s wolf escaped death from the Lannister soldiers. She knew her father would not condemn the wolves but she did not trust Cersei who would surely seek revenge.

“Sansa was jealous of you when Aegon crowned you at the Hand’s Tourney.”

Visenya let out a small laugh. “If I knew she wanted it so badly, I would have told my brother to crown her.”

“Why did your brother crown you? I thought he was marrying your sister.”

Visenya turned her attention away from the ships gliding across the Blackwater. “He wanted to cheer me up and he has already crowned Rhaenys before.”

“You’ve been sad since Jon and Dany left Winterfell. I miss them too.” Arya said with a sad look on her face.

“It’s that obvious?” Her question earned a nod from Arya. “Next year I am sailing to Essos. I don’t care what my father says, I’m not marrying some lord to further his plans for the Seven Kingdoms.”

“Do you think its true? The rumors from across the Narrow Sea?”

“I do. Jon is the best swordsmen in the world and if some Dothraki horselord tried to take Dany, he would kill him and anyone else who threatened his family.” Visenya smiled with pride just thinking of her brother defeating a Dothraki screamer and ruling the city of Pentos. Her mother was enraged upon hearing the story from Varys and scolded her father even more for banishing Jon to Essos.

“When you go, will you take me with you? We can spar whenever we want and my father won’t be able to make me marry some lord like Sansa.”

“Arya, Uncle Ned would kill me if I stole you away. I don’t blame you for not wanting to be betrothed to some lord you do not know. But maybe you will find someone you love in the years to come and marry him before your father can promise your hand to another. Don’t tell him I told you that.”

Arya just shook her head as if she just spoke nonsense. “That’s not me. Being a Lady, having children. That’s Sansa. I want to be like you.”

“Oh cousin.” Visenya grabbed both of Arya’s shoulders to get her attention. “You will find someone special one day and then you won’t be able to imagine your life without them. I may know how to swing a sword and use a bow, but I do not want to be alone forever. When I travel to Essos, I plan to marry.”

“Marry who?” Arya asked.

“Jon of course.” By the expression on Arya’s face, Visenya realized her cousin did not know. “I thought you knew.”

“No.” It was all her cousin could say. Visenya looked at Arya and felt like she had crushed her. She knew her little cousin saw her as an idol and now Visenya was just like all of the other girls. “You three will be like Aegon the Conqueror and his sisterwives.”

“I suppose. I do not want to conquer anyone though.” Visenya couldn’t help but wonder if history could repeat itself. Jon and Daenerys had already taken Pentos and now led a horde of warriors. She admired her ancestors but Westeros was united. Essos did not need to be united as one kingdom in her mind.

As they walked further along the wall, Arya changed the subject to the Hand’s Tourney the day before. “I heard a story about the Hound and how…”

“He burned his face. Its true his brother did it. My father should have seen his head removed after attacking Loras Tyrell. The Hound is nice though, in his own way. Well, maybe not nice but he is honest. That is more than I can say for most in this city. But still, take my advice, do not trust him. He is Tywin Lannister’s bannerman and my mother says he is not to be trusted.”

“My mother says we should only trust family,” Arya replied. Visenya thought that sounded like Lady Stark. She was born a Tully and that advice seemed to fit her House’s words.

“She is probably right. It’s a good thing we are family.”

 

The rain was pouring down and she could smell the summer rain from her place at her window in her room looking out over Blackwater Bay. In the distance, she could see lightning striking over the water. She wondered if her grandmother was seeing the same storm at Dragonstone.

Thinking about what her grandmother was doing on Dragonstone led her to think about what Jon and Daenerys were doing right now. _Were they sleeping in a great manse in Pentos or riding with a horde across the plains of Essos?_ She had never been separated from her brother and best friend for so long. It was killing her on the inside and had shed tears almost every night before she slept. She would not let others see her tears.

“You can’t stay in your room forever.” She heard her mother’s voice behind her.

“I did not hear you come in.” She turned her attention from the view outside and shifted her gaze to her mother. “And I do not spend my days in my room. I train Arya each morning and I attended the tourney. Surely you did not miss my appearance there.”

“Besides sparring with Arya and making yourself seen at the tourney, I never see my daughter. You can’t stay in this room forever with Silver. Its not good for you or the wolf.” When her wolf heard its name, she let out a small yip. “See? She agrees.”

“I will stay in this room until father brings Jon and Daenerys back.” Her mother dragged a chair from across the room to sit in front of her.

“Visenya, you are my only daughter and I just want to see you happy. I will not stop you from sailing to Pentos to join your brother when you are of age. But that time is not now and you still have a life to live. You have two sisters and a brother here. Spend time with them if you aren’t going to spend it with us.” Her mother was not wrong. Rhaenys, Allyria, and Aegon were still here and Visenya always enjoyed their company. “Are you still not speaking to your father?”

“I can’t. I grew up hearing stories about you and father. How you married for love and risked everything. Now he punishes Jon and Daenerys for doing the same.” Visenya yelled.

“You’re right. But your father is King and doing what he thinks is best.” As her mother spoke, she got up from her seat and began to pace the room. “Do you think I go a night without pleading him to bring your brother back? I fail every time but with the recent news and time going by, I think he will change his mind within a year. When our grandchild is born, I will not stay here and not see the child. Your father may seem iron-willed now but news of his grandchild should soften him. I hope.”

Visenya did not believe her mother. Her mother did not sound confidant in her own words. _How could a father exile his son and sister?_ She started to imagine what Aegon or Jon would do in her father’s position. In her mind, it would be impossible for them to send their own blood away. Her father was not cruel, mad, or bloodthirsty like her grandfather, but Visenya wondered if they were now seeing a piece of Aerys in her father. _No, that isn’t true. Viserys is the only Targaryen that could be compared to the Mad King._

“I should be with them. This is the longest we have ever been apart.”

“But you’re not. You are here with your family. Please, it would ease my worries if you would get out of this room and live your life.” Her mother gave her a pleading look her father says she inherited. He was not wrong. She knew how to use that look and get anything she wanted from her father. _Almost anything._

When Visenya did not respond, her mother stood before her and kissed her brow. Her mother turned on her heels and left the room. Knowing her mother was gone and the hour late, she made for her bed with her direwolf following closely behind.

Settled under her silk sheets, Visenya started to dream about a life in Essos with Jon and Dany. What her life could look like married to her brother who now conquered a city and led an army to the Dothraki Sea. Images of children with raven curls and grey eyes just like his invaded her thoughts. Silver leapt onto the bed and started to provide her some warmth with a cool breeze rolling through the window hitting her face. When sleep finally took her, she dreamt of dragons.

 

 

 

**Aegon Targaryen**

“So how was the small council meeting this morning?” Rhaenys asked as she sat to his right at the small table in his quarters. To his left, he could see Visenya fidgeting with her cup. His little sister looked like she wished to be anywhere else but here. Allyria sat directly across from him and seemed surprisingly interested in what he had to say.

“Certainly more eventful than the usual. Our brother is causing our father sleepless nights I believe.” Aegon let out a small chuckle at the thought. His father may have created unforeseen issues that would cause more headaches than simply appeasing the Baratheons and Lannisters. “He worries Braavos will go to war. Varys says they fear we plot to conquer Essos. We wait to hear from the Sealord.”

“The Iron Bank you mean. It is a good thing we have no debts with them,” Rhaenys responded. She was right. The Iron Bank always seemed to find a way to collect on a debt and his father taught him long ago they were never to be underestimated. “I still can’t picture Jon riding around Essos, leading a horde of savages.”

“Neither can I. Varys said Jon and Dany ride for Vaes Dothrak. Apparently, it is some custom they have to see to in order to lead the Dothraki.” Allyria shook her head in disbelief. Aegon continued, “It gets better. Apparently, they are accompanied by Ser Jorah Mormont.”

“Forgive me brother, but I do not recognize the name.” Rhaenys replied.

“Ser Jorah was knighted by father at the siege of Pyke. His father is Lord Commander Jeor Mormont. He fled Bear Island after Uncle Ned discovered he sold some poachers to slavers. He hasn’t been seen since.” Visenya informed the three of them. He could always count on his sister to know everything about the northern houses and really any question he had about history.

“The Spider has kept an eye on him apparently. The old knight fought for the Golden Company for a time and has moved around since. I just wish I could have been there to see Jon kill the horselord and his men. Varys said the horselord was the most feared warrior in Essos and had never been defeated.” Aegon stated while he thought of his younger brother with pride. When Aegon takes his seat on the Iron Throne, he vowed he would bring his brother home and name him Hand.

“The savage got what he deserved. Demanding Daenerys be handed over to him!” Rhaenys declared.

“What did my uncle have to say on the matter?” Visenya asked.

“He said something about keeping the peace with Braavos. I think he was more concerned with finding someone to take on Stannis Baratheon’s duties while he is at Storm’s End. Father decided it was best Lord Eddard take up the duties of the Master of Laws for now.” Aegon expected as much considering Lord Stark was much like Stannis.

“I know he is your uncle but I find something off about him. He always gives me strange looks whenever I am in his presence. I think I may have offended him when he hosted us at Winterfell. What the offence was, I cannot say.” Allyria said.

“If you offended him, my uncle would let you know. I think you are just seeing things.” Visenya answered.

“Perhaps,” Allyria responded. She looked like she was trying to solve a puzzle when she showed a conflicted face after Visenya dismissed her thoughts on Ned Stark.

“Viserys seemed pleased about Jon angering father. He and Jon Connington did their best to sully his name during the meeting.” Aegon added, hoping to change the subject. He had his own suspicions about Allyria’s true father and never revealed his thoughts. Not even to Rhaenys, for he feared the start of a rumor that was unproven.

“Viserys is an ass. And Connington. Why father keeps him as an advisor, I will never understand.” Aegon knew why his father kept the lord of Griffin’s Roost around. Loyalty. Connington was not the smartest man in the realm, but Aegon could not deny he was completely loyal to his father. That loyalty did not extend to his brother. Nor his little sister or Queen Lyanna for that matter.

“Enough with the politics of the Seven Kingdoms. You promised to go for a ride with me along the Blackwater Rush. Best we leave now so we can be back before nightfall.” Allyria said to Visenya as she stood from her chair.

Visenya nodded and followed Allyria to the door of his room. Rhaenys brushed past his shoulder to join the two for their trip outside the city. Aegon wanted to speak with his sister and decided he did not want to wait anymore.

Rhaenys was nearly at the door when he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back to him. “Wait. I wish to speak with you about some things.” She smiled and turned to signal to their sister and Allyria that she would catch up with them.

Aegon closed the door behind Rhaenys and pulled her in for a brief kiss, tasting the Dornish red still lingering on her full lips. He gazed into her big, violet eyes, marveling at her beauty. Rhaenys broke his thoughts. “What is on your mind?”

“Us.” He replied, looking down at the small, soft hands he held in his own. His thumb brushed across her hand before he continued, “I am ready for us to be married.”

“I know. I cannot wait either.”

“What if I said we should try to have a child? Now? Or at least try to have a child shortly after the wedding?” Aegon knew he was ready to have children and his brother having one only built a sense of pressure within himself to have a child of his own.

“What? Where is this coming from? Why the rush? We are young and have plenty of time.” Rhaenys gave him a look like he was an idiot. He never understood why she was so hesitant to have children and avoided the subject.

“Why are we always avoiding this discussion?” He asked.

“We aren’t.”

“Is this because of mother? Because she struggled with pregnancy?” It was something he had considered. His mother struggled to birth Rhaenys. When she carried him, he was told her health was failing and she nearly died in the days following his birth. He could not blame Rhaenys if she held fears dying but he wanted her to be open about it. At least with him.

“No. I am just not eager to become a mother just yet. I love you and want to give you an heir. But I do not want to share my time with you just yet. When we have children, they will occupy all our time and attention when we are not seeing to our other duties.”

“I understand. I don’t mean to push you. I just wanted to know your feelings about having a child.” He raised his hand to caress her cheek. Aegon continued, “I love you. You know that?”

“I do. I love you too.” Rhaenys proceeded to jump into his arms and wrap her legs around his waist. Her lips were sealed on his and he struggled to breathe. He did not care and continued to taste her as he pinned her against the wall.

Rhaenys was just as fiery and passionate as she ever was. They were getting carried away and soon he found himself trailing from her lips to her neck. Moments after, she eased her hold on him and pushed him back as she stepped on the floor. “That’s enough. Save your energy for later. I have things to do and if I don’t leave now, I’ll be here til morning.”

“Would that be so bad?”

“No. No it wouldn’t.” Rhaenys replied before laying a quick kiss on his lips.

When she turned to leave, his eyes never left her form until she was out of sight. Now that he was alone, he walked towards his window and wondered if he would ever see his brother again. He hoped his talks with his father would wear him down but his resolve seemed as strong as Valyrian steel. With the news from across the Narrow Sea, it occurred to him his brother now ruled over his own people. _As time passes, will he even think to return? He will have children, a wife, a home, and people to lead across the sea. I may never see my brother again._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? Reviewing this chapter, I realized it was a bit of filler.
> 
> I know it seems like smooth sailing for Jon & Dany (which it is), but the Free Cities are actually pretty weak and heavily reliant on sellsword companies for their defenses. I will say the good times will not last forever.
> 
> Currently writing Chapter 26 and it may turn out to be the biggest one yet. Next update should be out Thursday.
> 
> Leave any comments if you need clarifications on plot, character details, etc.


	9. Qohor & Secrets in the Red Keep

**Jon Targaryen**

Chaos spilled into their camp. He looked around and saw death everywhere. Their men were riding their horses chasing down sellswords. They were leaping into ranks of slave soldiers who fought like an organized Westerosi army. Tents were aflame and a rider-less horse nearly ran him over before one of his men knocked him out of the way.

The city of Qohor had heard of their conquest of Pentos and Norvos. They feared the same fate. Jon had sent a rider forth with a representative from Norvos who had friendships with Qohorik magisters. Apparently, his message of peace was not convincing. Jon was now thankful he anticipated this possibility and set up a ring of scouts around their camp to warn of an ambush along the road outside of Qohor.

When the scouts came in the middle of the night, Jorah woke him and Daenerys from their sleep. Jon was quick to order Jorah to protect Daenerys and see that she stays in a safe location with the rest of their caravan that were not fighters. There was time to prepare a defense but their attackers still had the advantage. The Qohorik chose where and when to attack.

Jon guessed the fighting had been going on for near an hour and the tide of the battle was in his favor. He looked around the battle surrounding him and decided chaos suited the Dothraki. They thrived on individual combat and spread out fighting that allowed them to ride down their enemy. It did not hurt they also had the numbers. Spotting Rakharo fending off two slave soldiers, Jon rushed to aid one of his most loyal fighters. Longclaw easily tore the head off one of the soldiers. The other was cut down by a passing rider.

Hearing screams surrounding him, Jon noticed what little remained of the attacking force was now fleeing the camp. Tempted to join in the celebrations as he felt the heat of a nearby fire, Jon concentrated on what his next move should be. He quickly ran to his horse that still stood near his tent some four hundred feet away. Hopping onto his horse, he yelled in broken Dothraki to his men that they needed to pursue their foes.

Rakharo and Kovarro rode at his side while they led tens of thousands of riders towards Qohor. As the stone walls protecting the city came into view, Jon felt some pity for the poor souls they ran down on the road. The slave soldiers did not have a choice in the matter but Jon couldn’t ride around stopping his men from killing them. Who did not earn his empathy were the men he recognized as sellswords. When they reached the gates of Qohor, he figured a good number of the attackers fled into the deep forest to avoid pursuit. They were no threat now as they were too few in number and dispersed.

Now that they had reached the city, Jon did not know how they were going to assault the city. He had not scouted the city’s defenses and those familiar with the city in Norvos offered little useful information. It all did not matter because as soon as his riders spread across the small fields surrounding Qohor, he saw the gate ahead of him open. Through the opening, he saw fighting in the street and a few small fires in the background.

Turning to Kovarro, he found the Dothraki had the same look of shock as he did. Knowing he should not hesitate to take advantage of the situation, he commanded his men to ride into the city and take it. He hoped the heat of battle would not get to his riders and send them into their old ways. As he rode through the gate, men with red shirts were cheering them on and the Dothraki spilled into the city quicker than he thought possible.

Riding further into the city, he noticed more of these people in red clothing cheering. Dead bodies littered the streets and some buildings were ablaze. The city was sacked before they even set foot in it. Jon was at a loss for words. Were they falling into some elaborate trap or were they lucky again, fighting a weak opponent?

Reaching what looked like a city square, Jon dismounted his destrier in front of a crowd of thousands surrounding a statue of a black goat being torn from its foundations. Jon had heard disturbing tales of the Qohorik and the dark god they worshipped. Tales of sacrifice and evil rituals he hoped were false. The mob erupted when the black goat hit the ground.

Turning around, he found around three dozen of his most loyal riders awaiting his orders. “This city is in chaos. Kovarro, send our best archers to the walls of the city and secure the gates. Rakharo, have our best riders patrol the streets and make sure women and children aren’t slaughtered. Aggo, place a dozen men at the corners of intersecting streets,” Jon ordered hoping his poor Dothraki was not misunderstood.

More riders came forth over the next hour seeking orders. As he gave order after order, Jon noted to himself he would need to build a command structure within the khalasar so his orders were more effectively communicated to the men. This was their first real battle and Jon knew a real army would have inflicted heavier losses upon their khalasar.

The city square was still full of people celebrating the removal of the black goat statue and he concluded the people who eased his taking of the city were followers of a different religion. A religious conflict was the last thing he wanted to be in the middle of and knew they should tread carefully with these people. He kept looking through the crowd, hoping to find a leader of the Qohorik that they could treat with.

“Jon! Jon!” He turned around to see Daenerys riding down the main street that led to the gate he entered earlier in the night. Daenerys was wearing her Dothraki clothing he struggled to get used to at first. Now the sight of his wife looking like a true khaleesi did not faze him. Jon kept to his Westerosi style clothing because he thought he would look like a fool in Dothraki clothing.

“Daenerys, are you alright? Tell me you are unhurt,” he said as she dismounted her mare and he pulled her flush against his body. Instinctually, he found is hand placed over her stomach. Her safety and that of his child’s was a constant presence in his mind.

“I am. We are,” Daenerys answered with a smile before he kissed her briefly, trying hard to stop himself from getting carried away. “I now understand why Rhaegar does not speak with joy about his tales of battle. There were so many corpses from the camp, along the road, and even in the city.”

“Aye. The sights and smell of battle are not pleasant. I wish you did not have to see such things.” _They never mention it in the songs. The smell of blood, bodies torn apart, and men who shit themselves._ Jon thought back on all the war stories he had heard and Jaime Lannister and Arthur Dayne told it the truest.

“Did we lose many men? None of the women, children, or old were harmed. I saw thousands of the Qohorik laying along the road and outskirts of the camp.”

“I do not know. If I had to guess I would say we lost a few hundred. We will not know until the morrow.” He hoped they had only lost a few hundred. The victory was an easy one but he thought it more likely they lost thousands.

“Jon,” Daenerys’ eyes moved to look at someone walking behind him and he noticed she started to put on her royal appearance she held at court in King’s Landing. The crowd around them was not as loud as it was just moments ago and was getting quieter by the second. Snow let out a growl and Ghost moved next to her on his guard. Finally turned around, Jon saw a woman in a red dress approaching them through the crowd. She had black hair that almost seemed have a hint of red and her eyes were a pale blue. A choker on her neck held a large ruby that seemed to flicker in the dark. Her breasts were hard to miss with the dress she was wearing that did nothing to hide her form. Jon thought she must use her looks to her advantage often.

At her approach, several of their riders stepped forward with arakhs raised until Jon waved them off. “Prince Jon Targaryen. Princess Daenerys Stormborn,” the woman addressed them. “My name is Kinvara. I am a high priestess from the Red Temple of Volantis.”

“I assume these are your followers,” Jon stated.

“They are servants of the Lord of Light as am I.” Kinvara’s words were eerily calm and Jon felt suspicious of her.

“We hoped…” Jon started to speak before he was cut off.

“I came here to help. You will face no opposition from those who serve our Lord. You and Daenerys Stormborn are the ones who were promised. From the fires you will be reborn, a gift from the Lord of Light. Your fires will purify and burn the nonbelievers by the thousands, washing their sins away.” Kinvara said. A chill made its way through his bones. Burning and purifying thousands sounded like his grandfather.

“Lady Kinvara, we do not wish to burn and purify those who do not follow your Lord. The lands and people we rule are free to choose their gods. We will not change because your followers opened the gates to us.” Daenerys answered the priestess with eyes full of skepticism.

“Nor do I ask it of you. I will send my most eloquent priests here. They will spread the word. You both were sent to lead the people against the darkness in this war and the great wars to come.” Her eyes were locked with his own. Jon felt like she was looking into his soul.

“We thank you, Lady Kinvara. Just know that there will be no forcing of your faith upon the weak and human sacrifice is banned in our lands.” Daenerys informed the priestess.

“My Prince. My Princess,” Kinvara said before turning around and disappearing into the thousands of people who stood in the city square.

“I do not trust her,” Jon whispered to Daenerys.

“No. Neither do I. But for now, we could use the help to control our cities and keep the peace.” He shook his head until Daenerys continued, “I know you are skeptical due to our family’s history with the Seven. Something she said… I think we can trust her for now.”

“You heard her. Burning nonbelievers. Serving the Lord of Light. Its madness.”

“Perhaps. But let us use it to our advantage and should she betray us, we will stop her.” Daenerys always seemed confidant in herself their entire lives. Now as his wife, a mother, and a Khaleesi, she spoke with iron conviction that could not be broken.

“As you say Dany.” He hoped she was right. Now that they had taken the city, Jon was eager to find a bed and sleep with Daenerys peacefully in his arms. They would not have much time to rest considering Qohor’s affairs would need to be put in order before they entered the final leg of their journey. The Dothraki loved the great grass sea and Jon was ready to finally see it for himself.

 

 

**Ashara Dayne**

Finally reaching her destination, Ashara Dayne started wonder who decided to place the Office of the Hand so far from the small council chamber or the throne room. It was the Tower of the Hand but that did not mean the Hand’s office needed to be there as well. The more steps she took and the closer she got to the office, she began to question why she was entertaining the idea of speaking with the Hand.

Ahead of her stood three northmen guarding the door of the Lord of Winterfell. There, she found the head of Lord Stark’s household guard. He was a man in his thirties and carried a scar on his face. He was a Cassel, if her memory served her. “I am here to see the Hand of the King.”

“My Lady,” the Cassel man addressed her before opening the door behind him and leading her into the office. “Lord Stark, Lady Ashara Dayne is here to see you.”

There behind the desk with sunlight filtering through the open windows, sat Ned Stark. The sight of him still crushed her heart. Ashara never lacked suitors in her youth but Ned was the one who captured her love. The man who slipped from her grasp before she could tell him of the gift he gave her. They promised each other they would marry. That was before the short-lived rebellion against the Mad King and before her love married another to secure an alliance.

Every day since Allyria was born, Ashara thought of what her life would have been like had Ned not married Catelyn Stark. How Allyria’s life would have been different. She would have been the Lady of Winterfell and she would have a son with northern looks.

“Lady Ashara,” Ned addressed her formally and gestured her to take one of the empty seats in front of his desk.

“Please. Just Ashara. I hear you have been inquiring about Jon Arryn’s last days.” She wanted to know what he was up to. _Why was he looking into the affairs of the former Hand? King’s Landing is full of liars and Ned should tread carefully._

“Who told you this? Have you been spying on me?”

She couldn’t help but smirk. “There are eyes everywhere in this keep. And the city for that matter. You need not tell me what you are looking for. Just be careful. This city is full of secrets and betrayal. Some things are best left to go with the dead and not to be brought to light.”

“Thank you for the advice. But I do not think you came here just to warn me about the snakes in King’s Landing.” His grey eyes were looking into her violet. She wondered if he could see right through her and know what she was thinking.

“No. I have been thinking about the past. About us. Do you ever wonder what would could have been?” Her question seemed to unsettle him and she had her answer. He may lie to her, but she knew now he loved her then and thought of her since. How much he thought of her she did not know but he was likely a terrible liar like he was all those years ago. “Never mind. Forget I asked.”

As she got up from her seat, ready to flee, he stopped her. “Wait. Aye. I sometimes think of the promise we made to each other. I loved you and you were all I wanted from the moment I saw you at Harrenhal. I love Cat but I will not lie to you. I still think of you. I always pray for your health and pray you find happiness. I am sure your daughter brings you much joy. She looks just like her mother.”

Ashara felt tears escape her eyes and cursed herself for walking into this situation she promised herself to avoid. “Thank you. She is my entire world. I do not know what I would do without her.”

Wiping tears from her face, she saw his eyes flicker and his mouth looked to be searching for what to say next. She could tell he was nervous. He looked like he did all those years ago when he built up the courage to ask her for a dance. Then, Ned was a boy despite being of age. Now sitting before her was a man, a great lord who had seen war and experienced loss. Seeing him gather the courage to say something now made her fear he would ask the question she never wanted to answer. A question only her brother, Elia, and Lyanna knew the answer to.

“Is she mine? Is Allyria my daughter?” His question pushed the tears from her eyes, down her cheeks again.

Her voiced trembled, stopping her from answering him at first. She tried to find the words, but struggled to do so for a moment. Looking into his eyes, she could see he knew just from her reaction. “Yes. Yes, she is yours.”

Ned just closed his eyes and lifted a hand to the space between his eyes. He looked like she had just taken a knife to his heart. “Why?” He asked softly at first. “Why did you not tell me? Why, after all these years?”

“Because you were married. Because your wife was with child. I know you and I know what honor means to you.”

“I would have supported you both. You kept my daughter from me.” She flinched at the anger in his voice.

“And I would do it again. Instead of growing up as Ned Stark’s bastard daughter, she grew up as Allyria Dayne, my legitimized daughter. She has a family here. The Targaryens are practically her brothers and sisters. They grew up together and she wanted for nothing.”

Shaking his head, he asked, “Does she know I am her father?”

“No. I have never told her. She always asks but I am always afraid to tell her.”

Ned stood and walked from around his desk before getting on one knee to her right. As he placed a hand over her own resting on the arm of the chair, he began, “Will you tell her? Now that I know she is mine, I cannot ignore her or turn my back on her. I want to know my own daughter.”

Ashara tried to think of how best to handle this. She did not respond immediately and silence filled the room. Ned’s grey eyes were searching her own for an answer. An answer she never felt ready to give. “Next time she asks, I will tell Allyria you are her father. I will let her decide where to go from there. She is old enough now that the decision should be hers.”

“Thank you Ashara,” Ned whispered before lifting her hand to kiss it. His lips connecting with the back of her hand scorched her skin. She never truly got over losing him to another and now it felt like old wounds were reopened and poured over with salt. Now she needed to put aside her own grief and worry how her daughter would react to the news of Eddard Stark being her father.

 

 

**Rhaenys Targaryen**

They had just passed the Sept of Baelor and were now racing through the street down Visenya’s Hill towards the Red Keep. Rhaenys felt the power of the Dornish steed beneath and sensed the beast had more to give. Urging her horse to quicken its pace, she turned to find Allyria just behind her digging her heals into her steed to catch up. Her uncle, Prince Lewyn, and three other guards were not far behind. With the gates of the Red Keep just in sight, Rhaenys smiled knowing she would beat her friend to their destination with no crowd in the street to stop them.

While she was no match for her little sister on horseback, Rhaenys took pride in the fact that she was a competent rider and always had the best horses Dorne had to offer thanks to her uncle, Prince Doran Martell. The sky was clear on this day with not a cloud in sight and the heat was not pleasant. The wind in her face was enough to keep her from sweating and knew her hair would be an unkept mess after this ride.

Pulling to a halt at the gate, Allyria’s horse stopped right next to hers. “You were lucky the children back there held me up. Otherwise, I would have had you,” Allyria laughed as she reminded Rhaenys.

“Excuses. I am a better rider than you think. Maybe I will surpass Visenya one day.”

“Unlikely, however…” Allyria stopped what she was saying and looked past Rhaenys continuing, “Isn’t that Arya Stark over there.”

Rhaenys turned to find little Arya speaking to two guards at the gate who had annoyed looks on their faces and stopped Arya from walking past them. Giving Allyria a knowing look, she rode over to the gate and dismounted her horse.

“I am telling the truth. I am Arya Stark of Winterfell. My father is Lord Eddard Stark, Hand to the King,” Arya informed the guards. They did not appear to believe her.

“Piss off back to Flea Bottom,” one of the guards barked at Arya.

“She will do no such thing,” Rhaenys stated as she came up behind Arya, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“I am sorry my Princess. Please forgive us,” the guard pleaded with a worried look on his face.

Choosing not to answer, Rhaenys led Arya into the courtyard, through the gate with Allyria. As they walked further into the keep, she looked down at Arya, “What were you doing outside the keep without a guard? And what happened to your clothes?”

“I was trying to catch a cat and got lost in the dungeons. I ended up out by the sea and had to make my way back into the city,” Arya replied. _Why was she trying to catch a cat? I do know where she got lost. An easy place for one to get lost if they are not a Targaryen._

“Let’s hope your father hasn’t noticed you were missing. He won’t hear anything from us,” Allyria added.

“You remind me so much of Visenya. Wild and always trying to get into trouble. Most of it was to impress our brother,” Rhaenys said as she thought of all the times Visenya would follow Jon and Dany into the hidden passages around the keep. Arya had all the same interests as Visenya. _Horseback riding, archery, swordsmanship, … Visenya does like reading about history more and doesn’t mind a dress. Arya seemed to hate both from what she had observed._

“I wish you were my sisters. If Sansa found me, she would tell father and lecture me on not being a proper lady for days,” Arya said before letting out a huff.

“Don’t say that. Be happy you have a sister. I wish I had a sister like you do,” Allyria told the little girl. Rhaenys always felt sorry for Allyria, knowing she never knew her father and grew up without a true sibling. They may not be connected by blood, but Rhaenys considered Allyria to be her sister. She was just as close to her as Visenya or Dany. _No, she is closer to me than even them._

“Even Sansa?” Arya asked, sounding as if she thought Allyria spoke like a mad woman.

“Yes, even Sansa,” Allyria laughed before their direwolves, Winter and Shadow, came running up to them. The wolves always seemed to hate being apart from them for long periods of time. Shadow nuzzled into Rhaenys’ side before Rhaenys saw Arya staring at the wolves, trying to mask her sadness.

“I am sorry for what happened with Nymeria,” Rhaenys tried to console Arya. “I am sure she is fine in the Riverlands with Lady. Full-grown direwolves will be a terror in the Riverlands one day.”

“I hate Joffrey, and Cersei, and Robert, and the Hound, all of them. I will find Nymeria one day.” Arya had a determined look and Rhaenys believed the girl.

“I hope you do. Now go along and find your father. He is likely worried for you.” Arya nodded at her words and ran off towards to Tower of the Hand.

 

Later that night, Rhaenys got up from her bed to find a cup of water on a table in her bedroom. As she poured the water from a pitcher into her cup, she looked over her shoulder to find Aegon staring at her. She was as naked as her nameday and covered in sweat just like him. Drinking the cup empty, she put it back on the table and turned to move back to her bed.

Sliding gently under the soft sheets, she draped an arm over Aegon’s chest and moved her left leg over his own. She found herself rubbing her sex against the side of his hips trying to relieve some of the tension that still lingered inside. They had already made love twice this night and knew it was best to give him some time if they were to go again and make it last.

“Have you ever wondered who Allyria’s father is? Ashara has never told her and no one ever speaks about it,” Rhaenys said as she began to trace circles on Aegon’s chest. She always admired his chiseled form and adored his hard muscles in bed.

“What brought this on?” Aegon replied, giving her a perplexed expression.

“Nothing. Just something Allyria said today. She is like a sister to us, but I can’t help but think we could have done more to make her part of our family.”

“What more is there to do? Give her our name? Have father marry Ashara? She has lived with us our entire lives and been part of this family.”

“I suppose,” Rhaenys said against the heartbeat in his chest. “I just feel sorry for her. To grow up without a father? I will never forgive father for sending Jon and Dany away, but for him not to be in our lives? I couldn’t imagine.” Rhaenys felt sorrow for her friend and wished Allyria would build a family of her own one day.

“No. Neither could I,” Aegon whispered before lifting her chin up to seal his lips to hers. His tongue traced her bottom lip before finding its way to her own tongue. It was a long and gentle kiss, unlike their efforts earlier. When he released her, she dipped her head to place a kiss on his chest before snuggling into the warmth of his body.

As she laid in bed with Aegon, she tried to think of who Allyria’s father could possibly be. _Could he be a great lord? A knight? Maybe even a lowborn man?_ Rhaenys eventually dismissed all the possibilities she conjured in her head and decided maybe its best the past remain a secret.

Eventually, her eyelids fell and she slept in the arms of her love. That night, Rhaenys had dreams with odd visions that she failed to tell her brother. She dismissed them as meaningless and creations of her imagination. _She was flying over the sea on a crimson dragon. Men white as snow with the bluest eyes walking on snow covered ground. Jon with a blood-drenched sword standing before the Iron Throne. A babe in her arms with raven hair and storm-grey eyes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much action yet, but it will come. Jon & Dany reach Vaes Dothrak next.
> 
> Again, if you have questions or have spotted plot holes or errors, leave a comment.


	10. Flames of Vaes Dothrak

**Daenerys Targaryen**

“Vaes Dothrak, city of the horselords,” Ser Jorah said as the Horse Gate came into sight and beyond it the vast expanse of wooden buildings and tents that formed the city. When Daenerys looked upon the two stallions made of stone, she concluded these must have been built by the hands of unfortunate slaves. The Dothraki were many things and builders they were not.

“City of the horselords… Not for long. This city will be ruled by dragons,” Daenerys said as they rode forth. Looking onto the city, Daenerys had faith in her plan once she laid eyes upon the Mother of Mountains that loomed over Vaes Dothrak and the temple of the Dosh Khaleen that stood before the foothills around the mountain. She had seen this place in her dreams and knew what she must do. _What Jon and I must do._

“Khaleesi, please be careful. You lead the largest khalasar on the Dothraki Sea but all the other khals have come to see who killed Khal Drogo and claimed his khalasar. You will be outnumbered and it is forbidden to spill blood in this city,” Jorah said with a fearful look in his eyes. Ser Jorah had come to be her closest advisor and protector. When she first met the old knight from Bear Island, she disliked and distrusted the man until she came to know him. The long ride from Pentos to Norvos to Qohor and through the Dothraki Sea left plenty of time to hear his story and his mistakes.

Qohor, like Pentos and Norvos before it, came under their control with little resistance. In Qohor, they found two magisters who were friends of Sivero and his family. Or at least they were as close as trading partners could be. Daenerys and Jon were afraid they would not be able to find a good leader for the city to govern it in their stead. The followers of the Lord of Light had killed many of the rich and powerful of Qohor and killed the priests who worshipped the Black Goat. She preferred to establish a council to lead the city but was happy to find two magisters be left in charge who would not allow religion to influence every decision while they were away.

During the long ride through the Dothraki Sea, Daenerys worried the red priestess may bring about another revolt. Eventually, she accepted there was nothing they could do until they cemented their place as Khal and Khaleesi of their khalasar in Vaes Dothrak. She started to admire the Dothraki and found the good in some of their ways. One thing she disagreed with was their love of their grass sea. It was nothing but rolling plains and flat plains of high and low grass that never seemed to end. No mountains or forests were to be seen along the road.

Ser Jorah’s warning had unsettled Jon, who failed to hide his disapproval of her plan to deal with the other khals. When she first told Jon of her dreams a sennight ago, he tried to dissuade her and said this was not worth the risk. He tried to reason with her every night and always did so while laying his hands on her large stomach. She knew he was trying to tell her she risked their child. _He doesn’t understand. We are both dragons and are children shall be dragons. Fire cannot hurt a dragon._

“And no blood shall be spilled Ser Jorah. You have sworn yourself to me and my husband, yes? Then do as I say and you will see. These khals are small men and are not meant to lead the Dothraki. We are.” She could not tell whether her old knight thought her mad or brave. Acknowledging he could not change her mind, he rode further up to join Kovarro and Rakharo at the head of the horde.

“Dany, we do not need to conquer all the Dothraki,” Jon pleaded.

“No but we should. I have seen injustice in Essos and it must be met with justice. We have ended slavery in the three cities we have conquered. If we lead the Dothraki, we will secure peace in our lands and end the raping and pillaging of countless villages from the Narrow Sea to the Red Waste. How can we sit by and allow that to happen when we have the power to stop it?”

Jon grimaced listening to her words. She knew he worried for her and would rather take the safest path available to protect her and their child. Snow let out a howl and she looked around to see them passing under the Horse Gate. Tents and wooden buildings started to appear along the road as they were now within Vaes Dothrak.

“Irri brought me good news this morning,” she said trying to take his mind off matters that caused him to brood. “She said I may carry twins. My stomach is large enough and there seem to be too many kicks for it just to be one.”

“She is sure of this?” He questioned, trying to contain his joy.

“Aye. I am sure,” She answered and then leant over to kiss him atop their horses.

The trek through Vaes Dothrak earned curious and distrustful looks from onlookers who could not believe a khalasar was being led into their sacred city by Westerosi who were the blood of Old Valyria. No attempt was made on their lives. She did not know if it was because they respected their own rules for the city, or if it was the number of riders at their command, or simply their two wolves who instilled fear upon those who had never seen a direwolf. Eventually, they settled into one of the larger wooden buildings that belonged to Khal Drogo.

 

“Khal Jon. Khaleesi. It is time,” Rakharo came to tell them before exiting the largest room in the wooden manse. The other khals were expecting them to come before them in the Temple of the Dosh Khaleen. Daenerys was expected to perform some ritual that involved eating a horse’s heart because she was pregnant. This meeting was for another reason. She and Jon were foreigners. They were told they would need the blessing of the Dosh Khaleen and the khals in order for their khalasar to have a place in Vaes Dothrak. She saw it for what it was. They would likely be killed.

“We will be there shortly. Leave us,” Daenerys ordered Rakharo. Looking towards Jon, she saw he had changed into a beige tunic and brown leather breeches that were not his preferred colors. She had also changed into her least favorable clothes knowing they would be ruined this night. “Are you ready?”

“I do not like this Daenerys. What if something should happen to you? To our children?” Jon asked as he pulled her into his embrace.

“Fire cannot hurt us. You know this,” she said cupping his face as she looked up into his grey eyes. When they were small children, she always encouraged him to place his hand into the fire like she had. He was always resistant and fearful. Never were they burnt.

“Aye,” he replied as he rested his brow against hers for some time. “Shall we go?” He asked as he backed away towards to entrance to the room.

“Wait,” she said as an idea lit like a flame in her head, “Come, help me. We need to bring the dragon eggs.” She stepped over to the wooden boxes that held the dozen dragon eggs.

“Why? They are stone. They cannot be hatched.”

“Do you trust me?” She knew he did.

“Aye. I trust you more than anyone in this world Daenerys. I hope you know that.”

“I do,” she answered. Jon then placed eight of the eggs into two wool sacks he placed over his shoulders. She carried the remaining four in another sack. “Snow, Ghost stay here.”

The direwolves gave her a strange look but heeded her command. They never disobeyed them even when ordered to not stay by their side. As they exited the manse, they found their most loyal riders waiting to escort them to the temple. Her handmaidens stayed behind with the wolves.

“Ser Jorah, make sure when we enter the temple, the doors are barred and no one can exit.” Daenerys ordered Ser Jorah as they made the short walk to the temple.

“Khaleesi, I don’t understand.” Ser Jorah looked at her and then Jon, trying to figure out what they planned to do.

“You will. Everyone will,” Daenerys said.

Now with the temple before them, they walked up the stone stairs up the small hill. Daenerys realized this temple was no better than a tent. Just wood and animal hide. Nothing grand or majestic. Not stone or brick. This would be easier than she anticipated.

Entering through two wooden doors, Daenerys stood next to Jon with nine men seated in a semi-circle with each of their bloodriders standing behind them across the temple. As the doors closed behind them, she looked back to see Kovarro and Jorah disappearing from her sight. _They better not fail us._

“Look at this one. Pale enough for the sun to burn his skin. He probably wears iron dresses.” One of the khals told the others. She couldn’t help but smirk as he underestimated Jon. “And he lets her command his men.”

“Who cares about her? She is a midget.” Another khal added.

“She’s paler than milk.” The khal next to him responded.

The youngest khal replied, “I’d like to see what khaleesi tastes like.”

“Good, then you can suck my cock.” Another said, earning laughs from all of them.

“The Braavosi want them both. They would give us ten thousand horses for them. Myr and Tyrosh even more,” the youngest khal said. She took note of this. She did not expect to learn of new enemies entering this place.

The most confidant and strongest looking of them all who sat in the center dismissed this. “Fuck the Braavosi. And Myr and the others. I will take their horses myself.” She concluded this must be Khal Moro. She was told he was the most feared after Drogo and led the strongest horde after their own.

“Do you know what I think?” Daenerys finally spoke up, confidant in her Dothraki.

“You would like to be sold into slavery? Or perhaps you show Rhalko here what you taste like?” Khal Moro answered.

“No. I don’t want either of those things.” She then dropped her sack of dragon eggs next to Jon’s as he stepped closer to her. He always felt overprotective but she understood. He loved her and so many enemies surrounding them made him nervous.

“We do not care what you want. This temple is for Dosh Khaleen. And you are not Dosh Khaleen until we kill your khal. And then we will decide if you are Dosh Khaleen.” Khal Moro said dismissively.

“And what great matters do the great khals discuss here? Which village you get to raid, how many girls you’ll get to fuck, how many horses you’ll demand as tribute. You are small men. You are not fit to lead the Dothraki.” This enraged the khals, especially Moro. She continued, “But my husband and I are. And we will.”

All the men laughed until Moro answered. “When we are done killing your khal, we will take turns fucking you. Then we’ll let our bloodriders fuck you. And if there is anything left of you, we’ll let our horses have a turn.” All she could do was smile and laugh at these weak men. As Moro stood, Jon stepped forward defensively, ready to fight them off. Moro glared at them and yelled, “You crazy cunt. Did you really think we would serve you?”

“You aren’t going to serve.” She told them as she placed her hand on a fully lit brazier. “You are going to die.” Then she pushed the brazier over, which ignited the rugs on the floor and sent flames spreading towards the khals and bloodriders before them. They all scrambled in a panic. The flames felt natural to her. The heat only gave her warmth and felt like silk kissing her skin. Jon pushed over the brazier to his right to add to the flames.

Most of the men were now screaming as the flames engulfed them. The smell was not pleasant but Daenerys ignored it and took pride in the fact she was ending men who had likely committed countless atrocities. Those that were still alive ran along the edge of the temple and ran to the door from which they entered. To the surprise of the khals and bloodriders, the doors would not budge. Khal Moro turned, looking at them in horror.

Daenerys looked to Jon and saw the fire dancing in his storm grey eyes. No matter how much he dismissed it, he was blood of the dragon. Her love did not hold the looks of a Valyrian but that of a Stark with the blood of the First Men. Many questioned his birth. He had no Targaryen features, unlike all his siblings. Daenerys wished those people were here now to see him. Finally, they both pushed over the last braziers to accelerate the fire raging around them.

The final khals remaining perished in the inferno and Daenerys felt her clothes start to burn away. Jon’s tunic and breeches were aflame as he pushed what remained of them off. He proceeded to pull her close to him and they walked over to the dragon eggs.

When she settled into his lap as they sat on the floor, she thanked the gods the flames did not take his hair or hers. With flames burning everything around them, she couldn’t keep herself from attacking his lips, seeking entrance to his mouth. Daenerys felt Jon’s member against her stomach and she wondered if they should make love here. She was willing and tried to coax him by guiding his cock to slide across her mound. Just as she thought he would lose himself in her, he stopped her and just held her close to him. _He probably thinks the Dothraki will see us making love once this temple burns down._

An hour or more went by and the flames were starting to die down. Parts of the roof collapsed and Jon made sure to protect them from any falling pieces. Luckily, none fell on top of them. Almost ready to fall asleep in her husband’s arms, Daenerys’ eyes went wide when she felt something claw at her thigh. When she looked down, she saw a dragon hatchling with black scales trying to reach her. It let out a scream and she felt tears run down her face when she picked it up off the ground. Soon, two more appeared and climbed on top of her. One of green scales and one of gold and cream.

She looked towards Jon who looked in awe of her and the dragons. Just as he opened his mouth to say something, three other dragons crawled into his arms. One with dark grey scales, one with bronze, and the other was a mix of grey and black. Surrounding them were six other dragons.

Daenerys felt tears of joy streaming down her face. The world hadn’t seen dragons in over a century and now there were twelve of the most beautiful creatures she had even seen before her. _I hope Snow and Ghost do not get jealous of the attention._ She felt her children kick inside her and she hoped one day two of these dragons would take her children as riders.

As they stood from the ground, both gathered up the remaining dragons. Each had dragons covering their shoulders and arms. Slowly, they stepped through the flaming debris that still burned. Crossing over the last of the flames, Daenerys looked out to find thousands just standing outside the burning temple.

She saw faces filled with wonder, awe, and fear. At the front of the people stood Ser Jorah, Rakharo, Kovarro, Irri, Jhiqui, Doreah, and their direwolves. When her black dragon let out a scream for all to hear, the other dragons started to sing. Ser Jorah bent the knee and everyone else followed. They had brought dragons into this world and the Dothraki followed strength above all. Daenerys and Jon now proved their strength and all the Dothraki would follow them now.

Daenerys had forgotten she stood naked before thousands until Jon pulled her by the waist to his side trying to cover her up. She wasn’t fond of the Dothraki making love and letting anyone see them in the open, but she did not mind being seen now. The dragons covered enough of her. Now Jon held her flush against him with his hand on her ass keeping her snug against him.

Irri came up to them with silk sheets to cover them up. She thanked her handmaiden before Jon lifted her off the ground and carried her to the manse to retire. Some of the dragons remained on their shoulders while the rest were placed on Ghost and Snow to carry them back to their room.

As soon as they were back to their bed and the dragons were placed on pillows on the floor, Jon picked her off the ground. Gently, he laid her on the bed and left a trail of kisses from her tender lips to her full stomach. As he caressed her skin and kissed her stomach, he then spread her legs and feasted on her wet lips waiting for him. After getting his fill and sending her over the edge, he waisted no time entering her. His pace was quick and unsustainable. It did not take long for her walls to clench around his cock when he began to hit her core. She did not hold back her screams of pleasure nor did he. Jon growled in her ear as he spilled into her. As he finished, she found herself panting as he collapsed on top of her. They both gave everything they had and he quickly moved off after realizing he was pressings weight onto her belly.

“I love you.” It was all he said and all he needed to say.

“I love you too,” she whispered as she felt him lay behind her, holding her tight against his front. Relaxing in his arms, she found herself drained of energy and fell asleep.

 

 

**Allyria Dayne**

Looking out at the full moon illuminating the night sky and the waves on the Blackwater, Allyria was thankful to get away from the feast just below. The entire Targaryen family and members of court filled the small hall used for lesser events that did not require hosting visitors. Allyria stood at a large window with two pillars at the end of the open corridor that overlooked the hall.

She had been sitting at a table with Rhaenys, Visenya, and Arya Stark. It was like any other night until she looked across the room to find Lord Stark giving her strange looks again. She noticed it more and more now. _Why does he hate or mistrust me? Does he think me a bad influence on his daughter? Visenya is the one teaching her to swing a sword, not me._

Now that she had escaped the watchful eyes of the Hand, she started to think about visiting Starfall and her cousins. She hadn’t seen Edric or the others for two years now. _Perhaps Rhaenys could travel with me to Dorne. We could visit Sunspear and then sail to my family’s seat at Starfall along the Summer Sea._

“What are you doing standing here by yourself?” she heard her mother ask. “You hardly ate anything earlier and the pigeon pie is about to be served.”

“I’m not hungry. I just needed to get out of there.”

“What’s troubling you? I can see it on your face,” her mother asked as she felt her hand softly soothe her back. Allyria contemplated not responding. She didn’t want to make something out of nothing.

“I know everyone likes Lord Stark and considers him a great man, but I don’t like him. Whenever we are in the same room, he always stares at me and gives me funny looks. It started in Winterfell and it has gotten worse. I don’t know what I have done to offend him or cause him to keep a watchful eye on me.” Allyria noticed her mother start to worry and her lips start to quiver. “What is it mother?”

“I need to tell you the truth. I have put this off long enough. What is it now, seventeen years? I need to tell you about the truth of your birth,” her mother spoke with a slight tremble in her voice. Allyria felt her head begin to swim. _Was this finally the moment she would learn who her father was? Was he dead? Was he alive? Did he know she even existed and that she was his?_ “You know of the Great Tourney at Harrenhal all those years ago. When Rhaegar crowned Lyanna and the Mad King began to turn against Rhaegar. At that Tourney I met a man. He was nervous at first. We locked eyes at the feast and I admired him. It took his brother’s urging for him to ask me to dance. I won’t go into details, but we spent the night together and many nights after. We promised to marry each other. We loved each other.”

Her mother stopped briefly, wiping away a tear. Allyria’s own heart was sinking. She had the feeling this story had a sad ending for her mother. _She loved my father. And he loved her. And he isn’t here._

“Then the rebellion happened. Your father’s brother and father killed by the Mad King and he raised his banners. He took another for his wife. She was betrothed to his brother and he needed to secure the alliance. I failed to get word to him once I realized I was with child and he had already married another.” Her mother’s words hit hard as she pieced together the information. _No! It cannot be. He isn’t my father._ “Your father is Eddard Stark.”

Allyria felt numb. All the noise from the hall seemed to dissipate as she turned to look down at those still enjoying the feast. Her eyes first settled on Arya, her half-sister. She always wanted a sister. Rhaenys, Visenya, and Daenerys were enough, but now she had one that shared her blood. _No, I have two sisters. And I have three brothers._ She now wished she had gotten to know Bran and Rickon better at Winterfell. She always enjoyed Arya’s company. Sansa was a naïve girl but she wouldn’t complain.

As soon as she felt all happiness of someone discovering they had siblings, Allyria felt the pain of the life she missed. What could her life look like had her father not married Catelyn Stark and married her mother? She would have been raised in Winterfell. She would be named Allyria Stark, not Sand or Dayne. She wouldn’t have had to endure all the remarks from ladies who visited King’s Landing and called her bastard. She would have known a father’s love and protection. Her uncle Arthur served as a father figure of sorts but it was not the same as Rhaegar with Rhaenys.

“He knows I am his daughter?” she asked her mother even though she knew the answer. It all made sense to her now.

“Yes,” her mother replied before pulling her into a tight hug. “He wasn’t sure until I told him over a moon ago. Please forgive me Allyria. I did what I thought best. I wanted the world to know you as Lady Allyria Dayne, not Ned Stark’s daughter from Ashara Dayne,” her mother whispered into her ear.

Allyria wanted to scream and yell at her mother from keeping this secret her entire life. It felt like a betrayal and nothing could alleviate that hurt, but she did not have it in her to scold her mother now.

She couldn’t say how long she stood there, in her mother’s arms. Calming herself, Allyria began to think of what she would say to her father. _What can I say? Will he shun me? Does he love me? I will be a stain on his honor if people find out. Will that alone keep him from accepting me?_

“Ashara…Allyria…” she heard his northern accent over the sound of his footsteps approaching on the stone floor. Backing out of her mother’s embrace, she now saw her father standing in front of her. She struggled to find the words to say as she looked into her father’s eyes.

“Father…” was all Allyria could get out before she began to sob. The moment she did, her father stepped forward and wrapped his strong arms around her. She thought she may hate her father if he had abandoned her but Ned Stark hadn’t done so. _He didn’t even know I was his._

Crying into his gambeson, Allyria felt one of his hands circling her back and another holding her head close to him. This was the first time she truly had a father and Allyria feared she may never let him go for fear of losing him. When his grip on her eased, she tilted her head to find tears in his eyes. It meant everything in the world to her at the moment. Knowing her father loved her and did not act like some cold northern lord who would have nothing to do with his bastard daughter.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there,” her father said as she gathered herself hoping they weren’t drawing attention from those at the feast. “I want to make it up to you as best I can if you will have me as your father,” he added with trepidation.

“Yes. I want that as well,” Allyria answered and jumped back into his arms never wanting to let go.

“When I am not performing my duties as Hand, I want to spend as much time with you as possible. If you are fine with it, I would like to let Arya and Sansa know they have a sister.”

“I’ve always wanted a sister. Are you sure they will not be upset to find out about me? Perhaps its best…”

Her father stopped her there. “Nonsense. You are their blood. You are their sister,” he said with what she interpreted as pride. _Arya will accept me. I’m not so sure about Sansa._ When she smiled and nodded, accepting his promise, he hugged her again before walking back towards the feast.

Allyria saw her mother smiling and started to feel sorry for her mother. Her mother was considered the most beautiful woman in the realm when she was younger and was still considered one of its greatest beauties. She now knew she only ever loved one man and lost him. _My father. It may have been just as bad for her as it was for me. Maybe worse._

“Thank you, mother. For giving me the truth. It’s all I ever wanted,” she said, hopeful for her future. Knowing she would have a father to give her away one day when she will be wed.

 

 

**Jon Targaryen**

Daenerys’ screams of pain made him feel useless and stressed. He could do nothing to help her now. Childbirth was something they looked forward to until it was actually upon them. Jon’s mind raced with fear of what could happen to her, their children, or both. Early in the morning before the sun had risen, Daenerys waked him from his sleep, telling him her water broke.

The midwives came after he found Irri and now the old ladies had been attending to her for hours as she laid in their bed. When he sat by her side to hold her hand, the old women urged him to leave. He vowed he would not move and Daenerys let it be known he was not to leave her side. Occasionally he could hear the dragons in the next room letting themselves be heard.

_Daenerys brought dragons back into this world. She can bring our children into it._ He kept reassuring himself and tried to put on a brave face. Daenerys did not show fear. He tried to recall if she actually ever feared anything in their lives. At the entrance of the room, Ghost and Snow stood guard. Jon hoped the wolves would keep their dragons from wandering in. The last thing he wanted was for the midwives to be frightened out of the room. Earlier, he removed the three dragons closest to Daenerys from the room.

She had named to black one Drogon for the khal they defeated and earned a khalasar. He thought it odd and tried to reason with her they could come up with a better name, but she persisted. The green dragon was Rhaegal and the gold and cream dragon was Viserion. She told him it was time for her to let go of her hate and forgive her brothers. Jon was still hesitant to forgive his father. He knew Daenerys did not get along with Viserys. No one did. But he did not realize how much she had grown apart from him. Whenever he asked for her reasons, she remained vague and just said he was cruel and hateful.

While Daenerys was quick to name her dragons, Jon found it difficult to name the three who clung to his side. As a boy, he always liked to read about Jaehaerys I, Daeron I, and Aemon the Dragonknight. Jaehaerys was the only one of the three to ride a dragon and decided he could name his dragon with dark grey scales Vermithrex. His mother’s House words always warned winter is coming so he named the bronze scaled dragon Sonar, winter in Valyrian. The third dragon that always seemed to be attached to him possessed black onyx scales with a small mix of grey scales. He named that one Stormfyre. They decided against naming the remaining six. Those dragons would go to their children or their siblings if they saw them again.

As Jon looked down at Daenerys’ sweat filled brow, he felt her hand squeeze his with all her strength. He heard the midwives say the babes were coming. Or at least that’s what he thought they said in Dothraki. “You’re doing great Dany. Just a little further to go,” he said gently but she looked at him with rage as if he said something offensive. The midwives started to instruct her to push.

Jon didn’t realize how strong she was until he saw the pain she was enduring and the way her hand gripped his own. With more screams and Dany doing all the work, he heard the midwives tell her to push more. They saw the babe coming. Soon after, he was starting to hear the cry of a baby.

This was the first time in hours he turned his attention from his wife. There in the midwife’s arms lay a baby boy being washed with clean cloths. The babe only added to the chaos with its screams filling the room. When the babe was washed, the old woman placed the boy in his arms. This was the happiest moment of his life as he looked down at his son. Peering down at the boy, Jon saw what he thought were violet eyes from Daenerys through the babe’s eyelids and a small wisp of raven hair on his head.

He did not have long to cherish his first son because he heard more screams from a babe. Daenerys was finally done and looked exhausted. The moment their second child was out, she raised her arms to their son in his arms. “My son,” was all she said before he placed him in her arms. Daenerys kissed the boy on the head and held him close to her chest, not taking her eyes off him.

Before Jon knew it, their other child was placed in his arms and saw it was a girl. Unable to hold back now, a tear escaped his eye as he held his daughter with silver Valyrian hair and his grey eyes. Like his son, he didn’t have much time to admire his daughter when Daenerys reached for her. Holding both babes in her arms, Jon thought this was the greatest sight he had ever laid eyes on.

He moved closer to Daenerys on the bed and sealed his lips with hers for a brief kiss, whispering, “I love you.” Their children were now silent as she held them and whispered how much she loved them.

“What shall we name them?” he asked after putting his arm around Daenerys, holding his family close.

“Rhaegar, our son will be Rhaegar.” As soon as Daenerys said it, he could not think of a better name for the boy. It sounded right and he needed to let go of his anger towards his father. “You should name our daughter. Perhaps a northern name?”

“Arya. That is her name. She will be a wild princess like her namesake and drive us mad,” he laughed. “She will be beautiful like her mother.”

“I don’t look it now. I am a mess,” Daenerys said not taking her gaze away from the twins.

“No, you are still the most beautiful woman in the world. As soon as your body has recovered, I plan on getting you full with more of our children,” he assured her. He wasn’t lying as some might. No one compared to Dany is his eyes, even now, covered in sweat and her hair a mess.

“Stop it. I can’t even think about that right now.”

When he saw Daenerys shiver, he moved off the bed to retrieve clean sheets. She was burning up until this point and he figured light sheets would be enough considering how warm it was here. When he walked back over to her, he couldn’t help but admire her nude form. Quickly, he put those thoughts aside and warmed his wife with the new sheets. His children seemed content and warm enough wrapped up and held tight against their mother.

Jon wished their family could have been here for this. He imagined the bells ringing in King’s Landing for the birth of a new prince and princess. That wasn’t to be and he told himself he would do everything for his family in front of him in Essos.

 

 

**Aegon Targaryen**

“Will father call the banners?” Rhaenys asked as her head rested on his chest as they laid in her bed.

“Not now, not while he is on Dragonstone. I’m glad he is trying to make amends with Grandmother but this couldn’t have come at a worse time,” Aegon said in frustration thinking about the potential conflict that could erupt across the Riverlands. “What was Catelyn Stark thinking? Imprison Tyrion Lannister and think Tywin won’t take it as an insult? She is going to cause a war.”

“Why would she blame Tyrion for the assassin trying to kill Bran? What did he have to gain? I know he is a Lannister, but certainly not the worst,” Rhaenys replied.

“I don’t know, but she better return him unharmed unless she has proof of his guilt. Either way, we may be dragged into a war.”

“Tywin wouldn’t be stupid enough to fight all of Westeros. You and father would defeat him,” Rhaenys answered. He didn’t know if she was trying to instill confidence in him or just underestimated Lord Tywin.

“It isn’t that simple. The North, Dorne, and the Riverlands would rally to our side. The Baratheons would side with the Lannisters. And who knows what Lysa Arryn will do? And the Tyrrells? I don’t trust them. They have forgotten what our House has given them and even if they were loyal, Mace Tyrrell is a fool.”

“It’s a good thing we have a brother with an army across the sea then,” Rhaenys added as she laid an open mouth kiss on his chest.

“We are getting ahead of ourselves. Father will know what to do.” Aegon hoped he was right. He believed his words but knew he could be wrong. They would likely win a war but he learned from his father that wars can be unpredictable and they should be avoided if possible. “Are you ready to be married in six moons?”

“Yes. I am tired of hiding this.” He took his gaze from the ceiling and tilted his head to lock eyes with Rhaenys. “Well, maybe we aren’t concealing our… activities that well.”

“No, your screams earlier were definitely heard by the Kingsguard outside your door.”

“I’m not going to apologize. I love you and you love me. Let the fools at court and the smallfolk think me a maiden. And those who know the truth? What will they say? You are the Prince of Dragonstone, heir to the Iron Throne and I will be the Princess of Dragonstone, your Queen,” Rhaenys stated with pride before moving up to capture his lips. He savored her taste until she got carried away and bit his lower lip. Aegon always loved her for her great passion and confidence. She was the most confident person he had ever known and he hoped that would never change.

“Queen Rhaenys Targaryen. I like the sound of that,” he said as he began to imagine what their life would be like when it came time for them to rule. That would not happen for many years, but it will come one day and he would have to sit the throne. When that day should come, Aegon vowed to himself he would bring Jon home and have the Hand he wanted.

“What did you think when Allyria told us about Ned Stark being her father?” Rhaenys asked.

“I already knew. Well, I at least suspected.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” He could tell she was disappointed. They never kept secrets from one another.

“I was not certain. One time, when mother was speaking of Harrenhal, she let it slip Ashara had affections for Lord Stark and I put the pieces together. The way Ashara avoided him at Winterfell and how he looked at Allyria. I feared saying something in case I was just seeing things.”

“I am just glad she is happy. When we were little, I sometimes wished for the rumors of her being our bastard sister to be true. I wished father would marry Ashara and make Allyria our true sister,” Rhaenys said as she pulled him closer for warmth. Aegon understood that hope for Allyria to be their sister. She practically was and they had been inseparable their entire lives.

“She is our sister. She may not have our blood or our name, but she will always be our sister,” Aegon comforted his sister. When Rhaenys did not speak, he realized she was ready to fall asleep. With his love asleep at his side, he spent the rest of his night lying their thinking of how he could manage the crown’s affairs with Lord Eddard while his father was away on Dragonstone. Aegon considered listening to what Viserys may have to say but then shortly rejected the thought. His uncle was a petty and cruel man. But he was family and Aegon knew as long as they never gave him any real power, he couldn’t ruin anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot happened in this chapter. All the Dothraki follow Jon/Dany, 12 dragons, and twins (names and appearance from An Empire of Ice & Fire by Longclaw_1_6). Forewarning, there will be a lot of targlings.
> 
> Allyria now knows Ned is her father and Arya & Sansa her sisters.  
> Catelyn Stark is still an idiot, putting the realm on the brink of war.
> 
> Next chapter is Thursday and its impact will be felt to the end.  
> Let me know what you think in the comments


	11. The Fall

**Lyanna Stark**

Lyanna laid on her side, trying to catch her breath and collect herself. She was soaked in sweat and her heart was drumming in her chest. It did not slow as she watched Elia roll her hips on Rhaegar slowly until her husband started to thrust upwards. She instinctually slid her hand down to her bundle of nerves to alleviate the tension as Elia proceeded to ride their husband. Lyanna decided against pleasing herself as she realized her clit had already been worked enough by Rhaegar and Elia earlier this morning.

Elia let her ecstasy get the best of her with wild screams as she rolled one of her own nipples between her fingers as her other hand rested on Rhaegar’s chiseled stomach. Soon enough, Elia’s back arched and Lyanna could tell her walls were tightening. Elia’s moans and eyelids growing heavy sparked a fire in her husband who knew his wife was spent and flipped her over on her back. Taking charge, Rhaegar ravaged Elia and thrust into her as fast as he could. When he was spent, he pulled out of Elia and rolled back over towards Lyanna and pulled the two of them to his sides.

“It has been too long. I thought I might go mad on Dragonstone without you,” Rhaegar said as he kissed both of their temples.

“It was quite alright, we had time to please each other,” Elia jested, earning a laugh from Rhaegar. Many said he never laughed but they weren’t married to him. Lyanna knew how to put a smile on his face and make him laugh. Elia did as well. Even though they both missed making love to their husband, they made due with each other.

“I leave King’s Landing and come back only to find my wives no longer need me. My Hand’s wife imprisons a son of Tywin Lannister and the Lord of the Stormlands is near death from a boar hunt. I have much work to do,” Rhaegar said with a mix of amusement and stress in his tone.

“Fuck Robert Baratheon. I never liked him and wish you never added him to the Small Council,” Elia said to Rhaegar before staring in her eyes and continuing, “And his lustful looks at you. I hope his death is long and painful.”

“Easy for you to say. When Robert dies, Joffrey inherits Storm’s End and is Lord of the Stormlands. That boy is an evil shit who has never been told no. And it only adds strength to Tywin Lannister. It is no mistake, Cersei hovering over her children. The Lannister name suits them better than Baratheon,” Rhaegar replied.

Lyanna couldn’t disagree with her husband’s reasoning. Robert Baratheon had always felt spurned, losing her to Rhaegar. She always held deep regrets about her running away with her husband all those years ago. It cost her a brother and a father. Dwelling on that piece of her past felt like a blade to her heart. However, she never could understand or forgive her father for promising her to Robert. _How could he not know of his reputation?_

“What are you going to do with Tywin’s dog riding through the Riverlands, destroying everything in sight?” she asked, hoping her husband would back her brother’s move against Gregor Clegane.

“The Mountain will either ride for the capital to meet justice or Beric Dondarrion will kill him or I will call the banners and kill him myself. And then I will march on the Westerlands and make Tywin answer for these crimes,” Rhaegar answered her question. She hoped someone else ended the Mountain. He was a wild dog, but one that should be feared on the field of battle. “Catelyn Stark better release Tyrion and end this madness. If he is truly guilty, she should provide us the evidence.”

“My good-sister is not as smart as she thinks she is. I fear Tyrion’s fate is sealed. Lysa is as mad as your father and she hates the Lannisters,” Lyanna spoke while trying to see the reason in Cat’s actions. _Was she blinded by a mother’s grief for an injured boy who was almost killed? Or does she have secret motivations we cannot see? I never trusted Hoster Tully, should I distrust the daughter?_

“Let’s hope the Imp makes it out of this, unless of course he is guilty. After this conflict is resolved, I am going to need to consult with those we trust with how to deal with Casterly Rock, Storm’s End, and the Eyrie. Tywin schemes to undermine our power and he will have Joffrey to manipulate. And the Arryn boy? Lord of one of the Seven Kingdoms? Seven hells, my reign will be cursed. I should hope I can avoid any disaster that lies ahead and leave a strong kingdom to Aegon,” Rhaegar stated with his usual melancholic look the rest of the realm knew.

Lyanna didn’t necessarily agree in regard to the Arryn boy. If they could somehow remove Lysa’s influence, the boy could be easily manipulated to their benefit. _He surely isn’t smart enough to play this game. Tywin Lannister on the other hand… Let us hope he finds death soon and make Jaime Lord of Casterly Rock._

“Lyanna, I’ve been thinking and have decided to send word to Essos. When this mess is resolved, Jon and Daenerys shall come home. I think my mother has shown me the mistake I made. Robert will be dead soon and I can deal with Cersei being angered at losing the prospect of marrying a daughter to a prince.” Lyanna sent her hand through Rhaegar’s silver hair that was loose. Pulling at his curls, she brought him in for a long, passionate kiss.

“Thank you,” she breathed out. Thinking of her son and the news they had heard, she began to panic. “What if he doesn’t wish to return? He rules his own lands and cities now. He has an army. Sailing back would mean giving that up.”

“They will return. Jon has never thirsted for power and Daenerys will want her children to grow up at Summerhall,” Elia assured her concerns. Lyanna hoped Elia was right. She knew power changed people and hoped her son was different.

“Viserys will not be pleased about losing Summerhall,” Lyanna added, trying to imagine the tantrum her good-brother would throw.

“He will live with it. My father passed his worst traits to him and I fear my mother was not strict enough with him. Let this be a lesson to him that things can change and we do not always get what we want,” Rhaegar sighed before continuing, “I’ll make it up to him at least. We’ll find him a beautiful lady to marry.”

“I pray for the poor girl, whoever it should be. He should have been married already,” Elia said. Lyanna could always see the hatred Elia had for Viserys. His comments about the Dornish always earned her ire and Elia confided in Lyanna her true feelings regarding Viserys.

After relaxing for sometime in their bed, Rhaegar got out of the bed to dress and prepare for the day. She knew he would need to visit Robert Baratheon again in case he passed. After, there was a Small Council meeting and then hearing petitions in the throne room.

Lyanna moved to the end of their bed and watched as her husband put on his clothes. As she admired his body before it was covered, Elia moved in behind her. She felt her lips on her shoulder and Elia’s snaking around her sides to her front, cupping her breasts. _I thought we were done with this._

She couldn’t help but laugh when she saw her husband turn around to find Elia fondling her breasts. “Gods, what are you trying to do to me? I have duties to see to. How can I leave with you both sitting there like that?” Rhaegar asked. Lyanna saw they had him hard again as his member was fighting to get out of his breeches.

“Then don’t,” Elia responded as she sucked on Lyanna’s neck, sending a shiver down her spine. Now Lyanna felt herself getting wet again and ready for more.

Rhaegar looked conflicted before he responded, “No. I will see to this later.” He walked over and knelt at the foot of the bed before them. “I love you both, you know that right?”

“We do,” Lyanna answered before he kissed them both and left their room to see to his kingly duties.

 

 

**Aegon Targaryen**

“Lord Robert Baratheon is dead,” Maester Pycelle stated as they all sat around the table in the small council room. Ned Stark looked like he had been hit with a hammer, losing his closest friend. Aegon didn’t share the sentiment. Neither did his father.

“Just what we need, now Tywin rules the Stormlands,” Jon Connington spoke. The Lord of Griffin’s Roost was not the cleverest man he ever met, but Aegon agreed with the man on this matter.

“My King, my little birds have told me Ser Gregor Clegane will reach the capitol at any moment to answer for his crimes. Lord Tywin has assembled a strong host that is ready to march on the Riverlands. We still have no word from the Eyrie on Tyrion Lannister. It seems Lady Arryn is distrustful of many these days,” Varys informed his father. _Seven hells! If Tyrion Lannister is dead, we will have war._

“We should call the banners and meet his host before he burns the Riverlands,” Jon Connington barked out before slamming a fist on the table.

“Lord Tywin has always been a friend to the Crown. I think it wise, my King, to send a raven to Lord Tywin and see to it the Imp is left unharmed,” Pycelle spoke up. Aegon held back his anger having to deal with this spy. He knew Pycelle was Tywin’s creature and it made Aegon wonder what role the Citadel played in this matter. If it were up to him, he would have removed Pycelle long ago and told the Citadel the King will choose the Grand Maester henceforth.

“Lord Tywin’s daughter and grandchildren are here, within our reach. Take them and be done with it. Tywin won’t start a war with Cersei and his grandchildren held here as hostages,” Baelish added. Aegon never could make out his motives or true allegiance, if he had any.

“My King, I have just been told Gregor Clegane is at the gates of the Red Keep,” Ser Barristan spoke up after a squire came into the room and whispered in his ear.

“See to it he is escorted to the throne room. Maester Pycelle, have Cersei and Joffrey in attendance. I shall offer my condolences for their loss and speak with the new Lord of Storm’s End,” his father ordered the Commander of the Kingsguard and the Grand Maester.

Once Pycelle was gone, Varys turned to his father. “Your Grace, my little birds have seen your brother meeting with Cersei as of late and they have always ensured the contents of their conversations have remained a secret. I will keep an eye on him and urge you to be careful what information you share with him.”

His father nodded, before Ned Stark finally spoke up. “My King, there is a truth I must tell that has been kept from us all. Prince Joffrey is not the rightful heir to the Stormlands.” _What is Ned Stark playing at? I’d certainly like to see Joffrey lose Storm’s End and it would certainly help diminish Tywin’s power._ “When I reached King’s Landing, I began to look into Jon Arryn’s death and looked into his final days. He spent a lot of time locating Robert’s bastards. It is then I discovered Joffrey is not Robert’s son. Robert has no trueborn children. Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen are Jaime Lannister’s. I believe my son was thrown from that tower when he saw Jaime and Cersei together. I thank the gods Bran has found his feet again but he cannot recall what happened before the fall, but I am convinced of it.”

Aegon was trying to comprehend what Ned Stark had just told them. _Had Jaime really fathered children with Cersei?_

“Why did you not tell me of this before?” his father demanded of the Hand.

“I wasn’t sure until two days ago. If I had told Robert before he passed, he would have seen the children murdered,” Ned Stark answered. Aegon could see his father was not happy with the reasoning.

“Cersei will have some questions to answer then. Varys see to it Stannis receives word of this. Where is Renly?” his father asked.

“Highgarden, I believe. With Ser Loras.” Aegon answered, unsure if they were still there.

“Where is Ser Jaime at this moment?” his father asked his uncle, who stood behind him next to the other member of the Kingsguard, Ser Edwyn Celtigar.

“Guarding Princess Rhaenys I believe,” his uncle Lewyn answered.

“Good. I do not want him here for this. This meeting is over. We will have answers before this day is over,” his father said as he stood from his seat and led the way to the throne room.

When they finally reached the throne room, Aegon stood to the right of the Iron Throne his father sat upon. Viserys was already there standing to its left. He noted Viserys never missed a chance to be seen at court.

Before them stood his uncle and Ser Edwyn Celtigar at the steps leading to the throne. Ned Stark stood to his right with Littlefinger. Aegon couldn’t help but smirk seeing the two men stand together. He tried to think of two more different people.

As twenty or so of their household guard took their places around the throne room, his father signaled for the doors to be opened. Rhaegar saw Cersei and Joffrey were the first to enter with ten of their Lannister guards in their crimson and gold armor. Behind them marched Ser Gregor Clegane who was escorted by thirty or more gold cloaks. Aegon wondered if they could even bring him down on their own. _Not likely._

“You stand in the presence of Rhaegar of the House Targaryen, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.” Aegon heard it announced as the people stood before them.

“Ser Gregor Clegane, you are hear to answer for your crimes against House Tully and dozens of other houses in the Riverlands, but you will wait,” his father declared. “Lady Cersei, you have your own crimes to answer for.”

Aegon saw the smirk on her face and it pissed him off. She acted as if she was the queen and not his mother or Lyanna. The Lannisters always thought themselves better than everyone else because of their gold. “I don’t understand. What possible crimes could I have committed?” Cersei asked.

“Lord Robert Baratheon had no trueborn children. Your son Joffrey and the other children have no claim to Storm’s End. Lord Stannis is rightful Lord of Storm’s End.” Ned Stark announced.

“Liar!” Joffrey yelled. Aegon was amused at Joffrey getting what he deserved. _He is a cunt. How could he possibly rule the Stormlands? What lords or knights would respect him?_

“Silence!” his father yelled at the boy who immediately backed away next to his mother. “I can see it on your face. It is true. Storm’s End will go to Stannis. No harm shall come to your children, but they will inherit no lands or titles,” his father declared as he stood from the throne and stood at the edge of the steps. “And you will not leave this city until your father disbands his host and rides to the capitol to answer for his actions in the Riverlands.”

“No,” Cersei replied.

“No?” His father could not believe what she had said. Neither could Aegon. _This isn’t Casterly Rock. You hold no power here._

Aegon just watched Cersei and her evil smile staring at his father. When he turned his attention to his father to see his reaction, he saw Viserys stepping forward. As he looked at Viserys and saw his face, his stomach turned. _Something is wrong. Something doesn’t feel right about this._

Once Viserys stood a foot away from his father, he unsheathed his sword and thrust it through his father’s back. Aegon felt frozen in that moment and felt numb to the world. It felt like the room went silent and he couldn’t hear a thing. When Viserys withdrew his blade, blood poured out his father’s doublet as he fell to his knees. “Nooooo!” was all he could scream out. Aegon had never screamed with such rage in his life and he unsheathed his own sword ready to kill his traitorous uncle.

When he made for his uncle, the Lannister soldiers were rushing towards him and the Kingsguard present. Aegon charged the first two he could reach and took both their heads before they could raise their swords. On the periphery, he noticed the gold cloaks fighting their household guard and Ned Stark kill one of them. Aegon and the Kingsguard managed to kill all the Lannister soldiers before he saw the Mountain cut down Ser Edwyn and fight his Uncle Lewyn. Before he could aid his uncle, the Mountain struck him down. _Curse the Lannisters. Curse the Mountain. When I am finished with him, I’m taking Viserys’ head. Then Tywin after that._

With the Mountain in front of him, Aegon feinted to the left and swung his sword to the right. The Mountain parried his blow and they began to swing at each other. Aegon made sure to move quickly and avoid the blows coming from his far stronger opponent. As they battled, Aegon started to notice Clegane get slower with his reactions. Aegon let himself be forced up the steps to the throne. With the high ground, Aegon aimed for the man’s forearm and managed to strike fast enough to knock the sword out of the Mountain’s grasp. When the sword fell, Aegon made sure to take advantage of the moment and ducked down to cut the man’s leg.

The Mountain now laid on the ground defeated and just as Aegon lifted his blade to send his sword through the man’s face, he saw Lord Stark take a spear to his leg. Stark fell to his knees and Baelish rushed behind him with a knife to the northman’s throat. Aegon looked back down at his defeated opponent, only to feel Viserys drive a sword into his side.

He knew it was the end as he saw the gold cloaks and the few remaining Lannister men kill their household guard. Not accepting this end, Aegon pulled Viserys close before he could flee and made sure to drive his blade into his uncle’s chest. The shock on Viserys’ eyes were no consolation. Viserys dropped to the stone floor choking on his own blood.

Barely able to stand, knowing he could do nothing, Aegon hobbled over to his father who laid on the ground below the Iron Throne. Collapsing next to his father, Aegon cried for he knew his father was dying.

“I am sorry father. I’m so sorry,” he mumbled out. Looking down at his father, he felt as if the world ended when his father tried to answer before the light went out of his eyes. His father was dead and now Aegon felt the cold feeling of death spread through his body as his blood spilled.

Aegon realized he was gripping his father’s lifeless hand and let go when he fell on his back to the cold stone floor. The fighting was over in the room and he knew he was defeated. It was over for him.

His thoughts turned to panic as he worried for the rest of his family. He prayed they would not see a similar fate. His life began to flash before him and he decided he would hold onto his favorite memories. Sparring with his brother, riding with Visenya, drinking a Dornish red with Allyria and Daenerys, being taught to read by his mother, learning to use a bow from Lyanna, visiting his grandmother for gifts, and learning to rule a throne he would never sit from his father. Most of all, he thought of Rhaenys.

_Rhaenys, the love of my life. If the gods exist, let them keep her safe. Let her have a long and happy life. The one I planned on giving her and will never see. Let her heart find love again. Let her have children with her looks. Find Jon and his protection. Help him take back what belongs to our family._

The last things Aegon thought of were all the times he spent with Rhaenys. The first time they kissed, the first time they made love, and the day they promised to marry one another. The final things he saw were her dark brown hair, her dark amethyst eyes, smooth olive skin, and full lips he loved to taste. “Rhaenys…” was the last thing to escape his mouth as he drew his last breath.

 

 

**Rhaenys Targaryen**

Rhaenys had just finished writing a raven scroll at the desk in her chambers when she felt Shadow run over to her side. While she read over her scroll intended for her cousin, Arianne Martell, her direwolf nudged her arm with its nose until she finally shifted her attention to the wolf. Staring into Shadow’s eyes, Rhaenys felt guilty for not leaving her room yet as her direwolf let out a soft howl.

“I’m sorry, let us go to the gardens now,” Rhaenys soothed her upset direwolf as she ran her hand behind its ear through its fur. Rhaenys stood from her seat and started to walk towards her door with Shadow staying right at her side. _Shadow must really want to get out of this castle. He is following me closer than usual and never whines like this._

Opening her door, Rhaenys found Ser Jaime standing guard outside her room with near ten household lined down the corridor. “Princess,” Ser Jaime addressed her, waiting to hear where she intended to go.

“Ser Jaime. Do you know where Aegon is?” she asked the Kingsguard.

“There was a Small Council meeting but it is likely over. I am sure he is with the King in the throne room waiting to see justice be done to the Mountain,” Ser Jaime answered. She could tell Jaime disliked Gregor Clegane despite being one of his father’s bannermen.

“Well I guess I will see him later in the day. Let us go to the gardens. My sister and Allyria should be there. Shadow is dying to get out of this keep,” Rhaenys said as she saw the wolf growl in the direction of the stairs at the end of the corridor.

As they began to walk towards the stairs, she heard men rushing up the stairs until two men came into view in Lannister armor with a dozen gold cloaks behind them. Rhaenys thought it odd that Lannister men and members of the City Watch were in this part of Maegor’s Holdfast. Shadow bared his teeth and growled at the men more viciously than she had ever seen. Then Rhaenys finally realized the men’s swords were drawn and the Lannister guards had blood on theirs.

Jaime unsheathed his blade immediately and her household guard ran forward surrounding her as a protective wall. Rhaenys knew something was wrong and began to fear the worst. The political situation in the Riverlands was a precarious one and Tywin Lannister was close to declaring war on the Starks and Tullys. Now before her in the Red Keep, two Lannister men with blood on their swords were here with ill intentions written on their faces. If war broke out, House Targaryen would side with House Stark, not House Lannister.

“Stand aside Ser Jaime, we are here for the Princess,” the tall Lannister man to the right ordered.

“On who’s orders?” Ser Jaime asked as he stepped forward, pointing the tip of his sword at the man’s face.

“Your sister’s,” the man replied as he kept his eyes on her.

“I don’t take orders from my sister. My orders come from the King,” Jaime told the man calmly with his usual air of confidence.

“King Rhaegar is dead. Prince Aegon is dead. The Red Keep is ours. I’m here to take the Princess on orders from your sister and Lord Tywin,” the soldier said.

_My father and brother are dead? No. That’s not possible. It’s not possible._

Rhaenys felt the fear seeping through her blood. If the Lannisters had killed her father and Aegon, she questioned whether she could now trust Jaime. He was a member of the Kingsguard, but he now found himself torn between loyalty to House Targaryen and loyalty to his blood.

“Rhaenys, go back to your room,” Jaime told her as he looked at her over his shoulder. She guessed he must have seen the fear and confusion in her eyes. She hesitated to move until he motioned his head for her to flee to her room. “Protect the Princess at all costs.”

As she turned for her room, she saw Jaime attack the Lannister men from the corner of her eye. Rhaenys burst through her door as she heard the sound of steel meeting steel and men screaming from where she came. Shadow was following close behind and the twelve guards loyal to her House spilled into her chambers after her. Rhaenys panicked, not knowing what to do. Then she remembered that she knew the Red Keep and its secrets better than anyone. She was a Targaryen and her family knew all the secret passages that would allow one to escape the keep and the city itself, undetected.

Remembering the passages her father had shown her in case the city ever fell, Rhaenys waved her guards to follow her and Shadow to her bedchambers. Beside her bed she noticed her tiara and the box that held her jewelry, containing many of the gifts Aegon had given her. She knew it was a risk to delay her escape but decided she would not leave these valuables behind. With her possessions under her arm, she moved to her wardrobe area and pushed the stone that opened the secret entrance to the hidden passages within the walls.

Without saying a word, all the guards followed her in before Shadow finally entered and she moved the stone back in place to hide their point of exit. There wasn’t much room to move, but Rhaenys slithered between the guards and the close walls to lead them for they did not know where to go. It was another risk, but she knew Jaime had bought them some time.

She ran down the passage until she found the entrance to Visenya’s room and pushed a stone away to sneak into her bedchambers. Thankfully, the items she was looking for lay next to her sister’s bed. Rhaenys grabbed the sword, bow, arrows, and her sister’s jewelry box. The first guard behind her took the items considering she carried her own items. She still heard steel clashing in the corridor.

“Now we must get my mothers’ things,” Rhaenys said as they dipped back into the hidden passages.

“My Princess, we need to go. There is no time for this,” one of her guards protested.

“We aren’t leaving these things for Cersei. Follow me, that is an order,” she commanded to the men who held nervous faces. Some of them were just as scared as she was. None protested and she led them to the secret entrance to the King’s chambers. Once in the room, she no longer heard fighting outside. Peering around she directed three of the men to carry off the boxes that held her mother and Lyanna’s most prized possessions, including their crowns. _I may be wasting time and risking our lives, but the secret passages in the Red Keep and King’s Landing are only known to Targaryens and maybe Varys. We may move slow, but it will not matter in these passages. If Varys has turned on us, then it will not matter how fast we move._

Rhaenys led the way through the narrow and dark passages within the walls of Maegor’s Holdfast. She moved as quickly as she could without running. Some sections of their path would not allow one to run because Rhaenys feared they may make too much noise and gather attention. She also thought of her guards and did not want to tire them in case they needed to fight. With a brazier in one hand illuminating the passage in front of her and her belongings under her other arm, Rhaenys found the stairs leading down to the lower levels that were difficult to navigate carrying these things.

Once they were below the Red Keep in the catacombs, their escape became easier. Now that she felt confidant they could escape the city, Rhaenys’ mind trailed to dark thoughts. They were going to reach the ship her father secretly kept with a loyal fishermen’s family some thirty miles from King’s Landing on the way to Rosby. That did not help. Her world was tumbling around her. If what the man said was true, her father and brother are dead. She did not know where her mother, sister, and Lyanna were. She did not know if Allyria and Ashara were safe.

Trying to control her emotions, Rhaenys focused on the task at hand and getting out of the city. Finally, she found the passage that would lead them to the woods outside the Dragon Gate. The passage was dark and the air was stale, but it was wide enough for them to easily make their way without making noise. Just as Rhaenys believed they would get out of the city unharmed, she heard the fall of footsteps coming down stone steps that led down to their path on the right. When she halted, her eyes found a blade covered in blood pointing out from the wall and time seemed to stand still.

_How could they have found us? This cannot be the end._

 

 

**Visenya Targaryen**

While her mother was discussing the current troubles in the Riverlands with Elia and Ashara, Visenya found herself ignoring them while she paid attention to the direwolves running around the grass along the path that led to the pavilion they sat under. The gardens were her favorite part of King’s Landing because it was the only part of the city that felt free and open. When she turned her back to her mother, she found them still speaking about the potential for war. She noticed Allyria sitting along the three-foot-high stone wall, looking out at the Blackwater.

Not wanting to bother herself with the conflict at hand, Visenya watched her direwolf be chased around by Zokla and Winter. They were fierce beasts, but in this moment, she thought they appeared as harmless as any normal dog. The wolves ran circles around each other and looked acclimated to the heat in the Crownlands she feared would be unbearable for them.  Visenya’s thoughts were torn from the direwolves when she heard Ashara Dayne speak of the Mountain and the rumors of him riding for the city to face the King’s justice. Visenya found herself hoping the man would lose his head. _He is not worthy to be called a knight and it would send House Lannister a message._

The conversation around the table halted when Aegon’s wolf, Zokla, let out a loud howl and began to growl. The wolf stood at the end of the walkway after his outburst and growled in the direction of the path that led back to the Red Keep. Visenya had never seen her brother’s wolf act this way and wondered what had agitated him.

“What is wrong with Zokla?” Elia asked.

“I do not know,” her mother answered as Visenya saw the wolf continue to bare its teeth.

Without saying anything, she saw Ser Arthur march over to Zokla with Oswell and Jonothor following. Visenya started to walk towards the wolves when she saw all three of them now acting angrily. As she passed the colorful plants and flowers along the stone walkway, her heart filled with worry when she saw the Kingsguard draw their swords.

They now stood behind their guards and wolves as Visenya peered through them to see men in Lannister armor and more than a dozen gold cloaks marching in their direction. These men had their swords drawn and Visenya knew then the Lannisters were there to kill them. The man leading the party here to kill her family was Ser Amory Lorch, an unpleasant knight who served Tywin Lannister. Visenya had seen the man at several tourneys and found him to be ill mannered.

“Ser Amory, what gives you right to bare steel in the presence of your Queens?” Ser Arthur asked the knight who had a nervous look. _Amory Lorch isn’t as stupid as he looks. All men should fear the Sword of the Morning._

“They are no longer my Queens. We will have a new king. Rhaegar is dead. Aegon is dead. The Iron Throne no longer belongs to House Targaryen,” Amory Lorch answered. Visenya turned to her mother and Elia. The looks on their faces told her all she needed to know. They believed the knight and Visenya felt her heart sink. _Father is dead? Aegon is dead? This can’t be happening. Father is a good king._ “Hand over the Targaryens and our King will let you take the black,” Lorch interrupted her thoughts as he stared down the Kingsguard.

Ser Arthur put his helm on his head and unsheathed his second sword. A fine sword that would impress many if it wasn’t for his other sword, Dawn. Amory Lorch made the first move like the fool he was and tried to take Ser Arthur’s head. Arthur killed the knight within a few seconds as he sent one blade through Lorch’s knee while ducking a blow. When the knight collapsed, Arthur brought Dawn down and took the man’s head. Jonothor and Oswell were already making short work of the other Lannister soldiers. In mere seconds, several bodies laid strewn across the stone walkway in the royal gardens. When the gold cloaks found a fool’s courage and rushed the Kingsguard hoping to overwhelm them, Silver, Zokla, and Winter attacked the men. The direwolves were fierce and quick with their attack. They tore through flesh and opened up the gold cloaks’ necks. Several limbs were dismembered and their screams filled the air until the wolves made sure they were silenced.

“My Queens, we need to leave. The Red Keep and this city for that matter are no longer safe. We need to get to Dragonstone,” Ser Arthur said as soon as he was done killing their attackers. Visenya’s father had taught them what must be done should they ever be betrayed or the city be conquered by enemies.

“What about…,” Elia tried to get out before Ser Oswell Whent cut her off.

“I am sorry my Queen, but we cannot risk your life. Our King would never forgive us,” Oswell said with urgency.

Elia looked ready to protest until her mother put an arm around her back and grabbed her arm. “Elia, we need to leave,” her mother spoke with a tremble in her voice. This scared Visenya. Her mother was fearless and never showed any hint of fear or doubt in her life. Elia nodded, accepting that they needed to flee.

“This way,” Jonothor waved them to follow. They would need to use the hidden passages under the city and ride for the ship they hid on the Blackwater that could take them to Dragonstone.

“No,” Visenya yelled to the Kingsguard, “I know a shorter way.” She could tell he would lead them out of the royal gardens to one of the several hidden entrances to the secret tunnels under the city. Visenya knew of a hidden door within the gardens she found with her brothers and sisters. _Lord Varys may not even know of this._

Without having to explain, Allyria understood what she was thinking and ran ahead of them with Winter at her side. “This way,” she told them over her shoulder. Now running down the path through the gardens, away from the Red Keep, Visenya felt hot tears on her cheeks as she begun to think of her father and Aegon. _Were they truly dead? Did they meet a cruel end?_

Eventually, Allyria led them past several various paths until they found their intended destination and turned to their right at the cherry tree. When they turned, they could see the blue waters of the Blackwater at the end of the path. Halfway towards the edge of the gardens, Allyria led them into the thick foliage that consisted of blackberry bushes and a few trees she was not familiar with. As children, they used to sneak into these bushes and make their own little world. Now it was far harder to squeeze through the bushes. They came to a halt when Allyria found the wooden door on the ground that was now covered with vines and leaves. Brushing it away, Ser Oswell lifted the latch and Arthur led them into the darkness.

Visenya was thankful when Oswell closed the door behind them. They would not be stopped now, unless Varys had betrayed them and placed soldiers in the tunnels in the city. The passage was dark and cold. Visenya began to think of her sister and hoped she had made it out of the Red Keep alive. The further they made it under the city, the longer Visenya had time to fear for the worst. _Rhaenys is dead. The Lannisters will pay for this._

“I do not know where we are Princess,” Ser Arthur said in a hushed tone.

“Follow this path to its end. It leads to one of the main tunnels. All we need to do is turn to our right and we will be walking under the Dragon Gate,” Visenya replied. She knew the secret passages in the Red Keep and King’s Landing well.

Soon enough, they saw the end of the passage. She felt her heart skip because they shouldn’t see the end of the passage. The walls ahead of them were illuminated. _Varys has betrayed us._

“Stay back,” Ser Arthur whispered as he crept to the corner to attack the men searching for them. Arthur held his blade out and moved to attack the men in the tunnel. When the Sword of Morning lunged out into the firelight, Visenya saw him lower his sword and wave them forward. Moving forward, Visenya soon found her sister standing there with a dozen of their household guard.

“Rhaenys!” Visenya screamed as she jumped into her sister’s arms and held her as tight as she could, making sure her mind was not playing tricks on her. When she finally released Rhaenys, Elia embraced her daughter and held her close as she began to sob.

“They killed Aegon and they killed father. I swear to the old gods and the new, they will pay for this,” Rhaenys sobbed into Elia’s shoulder. Visenya felt her own mother sooth her with a hand on her back. _Did Rhaenys see them get murdered?_

“We do not know that Rhae,” Elia whispered.

“Your Grace, I am sorry but we need to leave while we still can. The Lannisters will have men searching the city and the surrounding lands,” Arthur pleaded.

They heeded Arthur’s advice and quickly fled down the tunnel towards the Dragon Gate. The tunnel ended at a set of stone stairs that led to a wooden hatch that sat deep in the woods outside King’s Landing. The city was very close, but Visenya did not see a road in sight. Instead, they found themselves near a small stream winding like a snake through the trees. When they snuck through the woods, they found a boy who could not be more than twelve years of age standing along the road with two dozen horses or so. It was an odd sight until Ser Jonothor calmed their worries as he walked up to the boy to discover he had been sent by Varys. Visenya thanked the gods the Master of Whispers still served her family.

They rode hard down the road towards Rosby. Visenya feared their direwolves would not be able to keep up but they never showed a hint of tiring. Before reaching Rosby, their party left the road and travelled through heavy woods filled with maple and oak trees. The day after they fled King’s Landing, they arrived at the home of a loyal fisherman whose family held a decently large stone home that stood along an inlet on Blackwater Bay.

The family was gracious and handed them food and water as they boarded the small ship with plain white sails. Visenya hardly spoke a word for the two days they spent on the ship sailing for Dragonstone. No one really spoke during the journey. She thought everyone was afraid to speak of what happened because that would make it real and it would mean her father and brother were dead. And it wasn’t just them who faced a terrible fate. They did not know what happened to her uncle and cousins.

 

As Visenya laid in her small quarters she shared with Allyria and Rhaenys, she moved from the bed when she heard a ship’s horn sound off. The ship they sailed was small and meant for fishing. It was not a warship or one meant for a king. The winds were kind but the ship was slow and it had now been two days since they set sail. Visenya climbed the creaking wooden stairs and reached the topside of the ship. Looking around, she found her family standing at the bow looking ahead at the fleet of ships ahead of them. Ser Jonothor waved a Targaryen banner as they approached the line of ships that sat between them and Dragonstone which stood in the background.

Visenya had never been happier to see the three heads of a red dragon sitting on a black field. The royal fleet was guarding her family’s true home. Most of her life was spent in King’s Landing but Dragonstone was her home in her heart. Even Winterfell felt more like a home than the Red Keep. When Visenya looked to the starboard, she found the Velaryon fleet also defending their home. The silver seahorse on a green sea painted on the sails warmed her heart. _Some hold their vows and oaths more seriously than others. The Velaryons are connected to us by blood. They will stand by us._

Another horn blast sounded and Visenya figured it must be the fleet granting them safe passage after identifying them as a friendly vessel. She was thankful the fisherman, Rynell Seastone, was extremely loyal to House Targaryen and kept a banner with their sigil on the ship. As they passed the royal fleet, her mother directed the captain to lead them to the small beach that laid near the castle of Dragonstone itself. They wanted to get to the castle quickly and did not wish to bother docking at the fishing village that was further from the castle.

Now departed from the ship, Visenya ran her hands through Silver’s hair behind her ears to calm the direwolf as her guards rowed the small boat through the crashing waves. Allyria sat with Winter in the middle of the boat. Ser Jonothor sat at the front and four of their guards rowed the oars through the water. The wind was relatively calm compared to the usual gusts that swept through Dragonstone. When they were close to the beach and passing the rocks that jutted out into the ocean from the shore, Visenya saw her grandmother waiting with the tide nearly reaching her feet.

When their boat ran ashore, the wolves jumped onto the sand as fast as they could and one of the guards helped her step off the boat. Rhaenys was already hugging their grandmother who whispered into her sister’s ear. Their grandmother wore a dark grey dress that was simple and not extravagant like those found in the capitol.

“Have we received word from King’s Landing?” her mother asked in a somber tone.

Her grandmother nodded as her mouth quivered before responding, “Rhaegar and Aegon are dead.” Visenya began to cry and the tears blurred her vision now that they were certain of what occurred. _I never got to speak with my father during his last day. I will never see him again or make him smile. He will never be there to see me wed or be a grandfather. And Egg… The last thing we talked about, I cannot recall. My oldest brother is dead and I will never get to hunt with him again. Never ride horses or drink with him again. He would have been a great king. Perhaps the best the realm had seen and now he is dead, butchered by traitors._ Visenya felt her mother hug her tightly for what felt like an eternity until her grandmother gathered herself to speak up again. “There is more dark news. I think it best we discuss this in the castle.” _What other terrible news could there be? Were her cousins dead as well._

They proceeded to leave the beach and climb the dark grey stone stairs that were still wet from a recent rainstorm. None spoke as they silently passed through the gate surrounded by two stone dragon heads and walked up the narrow stairs surrounded by the sea. The main gate to Dragonstone itself was open for them and lined with their soldiers in the armor adorned with her House’s sigil. All the men went to one knee and bowed their heads as her mother and Elia passed through the courtyard.

The hallways and rooms in Dragonstone were eerily quiet. Even more so than they usually were. They passed the doors that led to the throne room and made their way to the chamber of the painted table. Entering the room, her heart warmed as she found Ser Barristan Selmy speaking with Lord Monford Velaryon, the Master of Ships, as they stood near the Wall at the end of the table. Both bowed their heads as their party entered the room.

“Ser Barristan, how did you escape King’s Landing?” her mother asked as they all took the seats around the painted table.

“I am sorry your Grace for failing to protect my King. I saw to it Gregor Clegane was escorted to the throne room before I went on to speak with my squire on Kingsguard matters. When we heard fighting in the keep, I gathered who I could and killed as many as we could. We made it to Iron Throne, but it was too late. We gathered the King and Prince Aegon’s bodies to bring back to Dragonstone, your Graces. We could not hold the Red Keep. I led our men to the docks and took the few ships we had,” Barristan informed them. He looked like a man defeated. She knew how much he loved her father and knew he took his Kingsguard vows seriously.

“What of Viserys?” Rhaenys asked. The questions earned dark looks from Barristan and her grandmother. “What is it?” her sister inquired after seeing their faces.

“Viserys is the one who sold us out. A raven from Lord Varys,” her grandmother held up for them to see. She continued, “Viserys is the one who killed Rhaegar. He stabbed him in the back. I raised a kinslayer.” Visenya felt rage surging through her veins and saw Rhaenys throw several pieces from Dorne off the table towards the wall in anger. Her grandmother stopped talking and sobbed as her hands covered her face as Elia tried to comfort her.

Ser Barristan followed up on the information, “Viserys and Littlefinger helped Cersei get more Lannister soldiers and members of the City Watch into the keep than should have been allowed. He stabbed our King in the back. Varys says Aegon fought bravely and brought the Mountain down as well as killing several Lannisters before Viserys stabbed him. Aegon killed him before he could flee. I am so sorry.”

_At least my brother killed that traitor. Curse Viserys._

“What is the situation in King’s Landing and across the realm?” Ser Arthur asked his Lord Commander.

“We received a raven from King’s Landing. They’ve named Joffrey Baratheon King of the Seven Kingdoms. Cersei Lannister rules King’s Landing now. Ser Edwyn and Prince Lewyn were slain. Varys reports he has earned their trust at some cost. He expedited their control of the city and feeds them information now. The Riverlands are engulfed in war. Edmure and Brynden Tully are fighting Tywin Lannister. Ser Jaime and the Mountain are riding to command Lannister troops near the Trident. Robb Stark has called his banners,” Ser Barristan told them.

“Wait Ser Jaime is fighting for his father? It doesn’t make sense. He protected me. He…,” Rhaenys stumbled on her words.

“He has abandoned his vows my Princess. I promise he will see justice,” Ser Barristan vowed.

“What about my kin? What of my brother and his children?” her mother asked.

“Lord Stark is in chains. Sansa is held by Cersei. Varys says they have not found Arya or Gendry Baratheon for that matter. I fear they are dead. The rest of the household servants and guards were put to the sword. Jon Connington is also dead,” Ser Barristan said with heavy eyes. The old man continued, “For every ten of our men, six managed to escape. We took all the ships with us, so the royal fleet is fully intact. With Lord Monford, we hold the bay. And that is not all. We discovered that King Rhaegar and Lord Eddard learned Cersei’s children are all bastards born to Jaime Lannister. They were called to answer for this. We have sent a raven to inform Lord Stannis at Storm’s End.”

“Where do the lords across the realm stand?” Ser Oswell asked.

Barristan shook his head before looking down at the painted table. Pointing to the north, he answered, “As I said, Robb Stark has called his banners and will lead his host through the neck into the Riverlands. The Riverlords are already fighting the Westerlands. It is said Lysa Arryn is keeping the Vale out of this war. Stannis has declared for us, but Renly has declared himself King and has gained the support of House Tyrell. Renly has the allegiance of the Stormlords and has spent more time at Storm’s End than Stannis. Our ravens to Sunspear have gone unanswered but there hasn’t been much time. And as for the Greyjoys, I cannot say. As long as Robb keeps the boy close to him, I should think Balon Greyjoy will stay out of this war.”

“Theon Greyjoy has been away from Pyke for years and has grown up in Winterfell. Do not trust Balon. Who’s to say he cares for his son’s safety,” Ashara Dayne reminded them. Visenya was hesitant to hold the sentiment until she thought of the Iron Islanders and their history. They were dark and petty people who were cruel. _Ashara is correct._

“We have the ships and the men to take back King’s Landing. We should not wait,” Ser Monford stated with confidence.

“King’s Landing is worthless. Joffrey is not the real threat. If we waste our men and efforts on a siege, Tywin Lannister will be left unchecked. Right now, our only allies are in the Riverlands and the North. If Renly truly has rallied the Stormlands and Reach to his banner, he will lead a host of near one hundred thousand men. And we haven’t heard from Prince Doran. We are outnumbered,” Ser Arthur warned them.

“We shouldn’t do anything until we have brought our King back. Jon is our King and he should decide how we will take back the Seven Kingdoms,” Visenya finally spoke after struggling to sit through meeting in silence.

“My daughter is right. My son is the rightful King and the one who can lead us. He and Daenerys have an army larger than any in Westeros. I want the Lannisters dead but my husband always warned wars are unpredictable and Tywin is a dangerous foe. He will not be easily defeated,” her mother told them.

“No, we should go after them now. They killed my father. They killed Aegon. We need to kill them all,” her sister yelled with fury. “I will sail to Dorne and secure my Uncle’s men. I will not wait to find our brother in Essos and leave the Lannisters free to rule our kingdom.”

“Rhaenys, please! We need to stick together. Jon will know how to win,” Visenya pleaded with her sister.

“No, Cersei, Tywin, Joffrey, all of them will pay. Dorne will answer my call. Your cousin Robb and the North will soon be fighting the Lannisters. We can defeat them now,” Rhaenys argued.

“We cannot stop you Rhaenys, but Visenya and I will sail for Essos and find Jon and Daenerys. I hope you will join us,” her mother added.

“I will travel with my daughter to Sunspear and get my brother to join us,” Elia informed them as she turned to Ashara. “Will you come with us?”

“I am sorry my friend, but Lyanna is right. Jon is King and we should bring him back first,” Ashara said with regret. “My daughter will come with us.”

Barristan looked at everyone before ordering his men. “Ser Jonothor, you will stay here with Queen Rhaella and command the defense of Dragonstone. You will be in charge of all our forces. Lord Monford will command the royal fleet and his own as well as any houses that join you. Ser Arthur and I will sail for Essos with Queen Lyanna and Princess Visenya. Ser Oswell, you will stay by Queen Elia and Princess Rhaenys when they sail for Sunspear.” His words earned nods of approval from the Kingsguard.

Visenya sat still, staring at the painted table as everyone departed the room. All that remained were Rhaenys and Allyria. Visenya hadn’t even noticed how worried Allyria was, forgetting briefly her Uncle Ned was her father. Rhaenys moved to leave the room before Visenya stood to stop her from walking away.

“Don’t do this. We are family and we need to stay together. When we find Jon and Daenerys, we can call on your uncle,” she pleaded with her sister.

Rhaenys shook her head, “No, I’m not going to waste time riding through Essos trying to find our brother. The Lannisters killed Aegon. I’m not going to let them sit on his throne and take what is ours.”

“You think I want that? Aegon was my brother too. You think I don’t want to kill them all? I want vengeance for our brother and father just as much as you. But don’t do this. Dorne is not enough to defeat them. We need Jon. He knows how to fight and lead. He has conquered cities,” Visenya tried to convince but her words appeared to fall on deaf ears.

“I am not changing my mind,” Rhaenys said as she brushed past her shoulder.

Visenya turned around to see Allyria still planted in her seat her head still in her hands. Seeing her cousin who was like a sister in so much pain struck a nerve. She took the seat next to Allyria and placed a warming hand on her arm.

“My father is in chains and Sansa is held by Joffrey. We don’t even know if Arya is alive. I barely had any time with them,” Allyria almost whispered.

“I know. I pray they will be alright. Robb has called his banners. They aren’t stupid enough to harm them.”

“I hope you are right. I just have a terrible feeling,” Allyria replied.

_May the old gods protect my uncle and cousins. Allyria is right to worry with Joffrey and Cersei in power._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I started this story, did not think twice about killing off Aegon and Rhaegar. But after writing their final chapter, it did not feel great. I know some may hate they were killed by Viserys, but I wanted them to die by betrayal and not in a battle, Aegon was good enough to take down the Mountain (who is injured if that was unclear). I was conflicted at first with Viserys, whether he should be good or bad, but decided there needed to be a traitor to bring down Rhaegar and Aegon because they were smart & strong enough to beat Tywin in a war.
> 
> Next chapter is Sunday and sheds more light on the conspiracy to take the Iron Throne.
> 
> As usual, let me know what you think in the comments.


	12. Wolves & Lions at War

**Daenerys Targaryen**

It had been nearly a moon since they had left Vaes Dothrak and now led no more than one thousand of their most loyal followers. Rakharo and Kovarro still accompanied them through Lazhar while a young Dothraki warrior name Qhono was left to lead the khalasar in the Dothraki Sea. Qhono was a respected and feared fighter amongst all the Dothraki. Old Aggo also remained in the city of the horselords to see the Dothraki followed their orders. Daenerys was hesitant to leave the Dothraki behind considering their divided history until time passed and she realized they respected their strength after the dragons were born.

Before leaving Qohor, a messenger from Illyrio advised them that securing a trade deal with Qarth would be prosperous for themselves and the cities they ruled. Initially, they dismissed the idea considering how far away it was until Ser Jorah found a trader in Vaes Dothrak who knew a way through the Red Waste. Now they rode along a small river in a canyon through this desert wasteland. It is because of the limited amount of water they brought so few with them.

Now sitting in the covered wagon that was far less comfortable than the wheelhouses in Westeros, Daenerys stared down into her son’s eyes as he lay in her arms. Irri sat across from her holding Arya. Jhiqui and Doreah sat at the front of the wagon, speaking to each other about the Dothraki clothing Doreah disliked. In between Daenerys and Irri stood her three dragons waiting to be fed.

When she took her eyes from her son to the riders behind them, Daenerys realized this was the longest she had gone without riding on horseback and surprisingly did not miss it. She couldn’t take her attention away from her children, who needed to remain in the shade despite having plenty of water from the river along their path. The sun in the Red Waste was punishing and she was not going to let her babes suffer in the heat.

“Dracarys,” she encouraged Drogon to burn the tiny piece of meat thrown in front of her by Doreah to the small dragon. Daenerys noticed the dragons had already grown and her black scaled dragon was slightly larger than Rhaegal and Viserion now. Drogon’s flames were still small and weak, but enough to cook the meat for his liking.

“They are growing,” she heard and looked up to find Jon riding just behind them with sweat beating down his face. This was an unforgiving place and Daenerys made Jon swear to turn around should the river end before they could reach Qarth.

“I wish Visenya was here. She would love this. I think she would know how to train them better than I,” she added as Rhaegal and Viserion let out small puffs of smoke, trying to cook their meat. “What will we do if the Thirteen do not let us through the gates of Qarth? Ser Jorah has told me about the Garden of Bones and I’d like to avoid that fate.”

“From what I’ve heard they are not strong fighters and we lead the Dothraki. And with our dragons, they will likely fear offending us. We just need to let them know we are there for trade. Some are acquaintances of Illyrio, which should help,” Jon said as he stared at Rhaegar and Arya.

“Do you wish to hold them?” she asked.

“No. No, I will wait til we camp. No need to wake them from their sleep and put them under this sun,” he said, briefly looking up into the sky.

Daenerys looked down at her son when she felt Rhaegal crawling up her leg and nuzzling his head into the blanket that was wrapped around Rhaegar. “Rhaegal seems to have a connection with our son. I hope he will be his rider one day,” she said as she tried to imagine how large the dragons could grow.

“Sonar has already shown her preference for Arya. Whenever I hold her, she always appears and flaps her wings,” Jon said. He wasn’t wrong. She noticed the bronze scaled dragon always remained close to their daughter whenever not held in a cage.

“How are Snow and Ghost doing?” Daenerys asked as she thought about their other loyal beasts.

“They don’t like it, but you’ve seen them. They just run into the water every hour to cool down and thankfully we have the occasional shade from the cliffs in this canyon,” Jon said.

“After Qarth, where will we go? Where will we live?” she asked him. The decision had been stuck in her mind ever since they left Vaes Dothrak.

“Where do you want to live my love?” Jon answered.

“I prefer the weather in Pentos and it is close to home,” she said, knowing they may never see Westeros again. “But I also know we have other cities and people to rule. And the khalasar needs a khal and khaleesi.”

“When we have settled our affairs in Qarth, we will return to the Dothraki Sea and rule there. I will have Illyrio build a manse for you by the sea and when it is complete, we will raise our children there,” he said with a smile. Jon was never one who smiled much except for when he was with her. Now that they had children, he always smiled when holding them in his arms or just speaking about them.

“Are you still going to keep your promise?” she asked him as she thought back to their time at Summerhall, which almost seemed a lifetime ago now.

“What promise is that?” he laughed.

“You promised me a dozen children,” she reminded him. When she pictured their future, she always saw them having a large family with children running everywhere.

“Aye. I did. We’ll have to get started on that again,” Jon answered.

She rolled her eyes at him as Irri laughed across from her with Arya still in her arms. “You will have to wait my love. I look a mess and am still recovering from these two,” she warned him.

Jon brought his horse closer to her and reached for her hand to place a light kiss on it before riding off to the head of their caravan. She couldn’t stop herself from blushing or the heat building between her legs. _He is still able to turn me into a swooning maid lusting after him._

 

 

**Allyria Dayne**

The black sails of House Targaryen could be seen carrying thirty ships or more around Dragonstone from the window of Allyria’s room. Ever since they had arrived on Dragonstone, she had hardly spoken to anyone. She didn’t know what to say or how to comfort Rhaenys or Visenya. Allyria felt like she lost a brother as well. Aegon was the closest person to her in the world after her mother and Rhaenys. She even missed King Rhaegar who acted as a father to her when her uncle Arthur was not present.

Her actual father occupied her thoughts and she prayed for his safety. She prayed her half-brother Robb would lead the North to a quick victory and would be able to bargain the release of her father and half-sisters. She did not know they were family until a few moons ago, but she couldn’t bear the thought of now losing them.

Half of her wanted to stay in Westeros and go find her brother, to support his cause. The other half of her wanted to stay with her mother and go find Jon in Essos. Knowing she wasn’t a warrior, she knew it was best she stick with her family here on Dragonstone and find their King.

Several soft knocks at her door broke her thoughts. When she called for the visitor to come in, she saw her mother step into her room with a scroll in her hands. “What is it mother?”

She wished she had not asked the moment she saw a tear escape her mother’s eye. Her mother’s hands fumbled with the scroll in her hands as she tried to come up with an answer. Allyria knew in heart this was the news she had been dreading. “A raven from King’s Landing. Your father is dead.”

“No….No. No. No,” was all she could let out. Allyria collapsed on her bed and soon found her mother pulling her in tightly. Allyria cried into her mother’s shoulder, hoping she had the power to change things. To save her father. “I never got to know him. We didn’t get enough time. We didn’t…,” she mumbled before failing to finish her words.

“I know, my sweet daughter,” her mother whispered into her ear as she felt a soothing hand on her back. “We will make them pay. All of them. Joffrey, Cersei, Tywin, Jaime, all of them. When we return with Jon and Daenerys, we will kill them all. I promise.” She had never heard her mother speak with such hate but in this moment, it was what she needed. Allyria wanted those who had her father killed punished.

 

 

**Arya Stark**

Arya was ready to get out of this city. She hated King’s Landing and all the people in it. They all cheered when Ilyn Payne took her father’s head. _I thought the people loved Rhaegar and the Targaryens. They cheered them at the tourney. They waved to my cousin when she was in the streets of King’s Landing. And Sansa just stood there with Cersei and Joffrey. She betrayed our family._

All she could think about was killing Joffrey and every Lannister. _One day, I will get my revenge. Jon and Robb will make the Lannisters pay. I just need to ride with Yoren and these recruits for the Watch until we get to Winterfell._

She was riding on the back of a wagon through the streets of King’s Landing and looked around, fearing she might be recognized by someone before she could get out. People did not even pay them mind. It seemed no one cared about criminals and boys recruited for the Night’s Watch. When she looked over her shoulder, she saw the fat boy who tried to steal Needle from her. She promised to keep an eye on him in case he tried to steal it from her.

They were now close to the gates when Arya looked over at the entrance of an alley and saw a familiar face. At first, she could not put a name to the face she saw. When he locked eyes with her, she finally realized it was Gendry Baratheon, son of Stannis. She looked around to make sure no gold cloaks or Lannister soldiers were around before she waved him to come over as the wagon kept moving forward.

Gendry looked around and seemed to question whether he should catch up to her. After a few moments, she saw him running to catch up with them and hopped onto the back of the wagon next to her. “Arya,” he whispered, “How in seven hells did you get out of the Red Keep?”

“The catacombs beneath the keep. My cousin showed me some of the secret passages. I spent a lot of time in Flea Bottom before they killed my father at the Sept of Baelor. Yoren found me and cut my hair. Call me Ary now. I am supposed to be a boy. How did you escape?” she finally asked.

“I got lucky and killed two gold cloaks. Ran through the gate and hid most of the time around the street of steel. And now here I am,” Gendry answered before looking around. Arya noticed his face was dirty and his hair a bit longer. She hoped if they came across any gold cloaks, they wouldn’t recognize him if they knew his face. “By the way, who is Yoren?”

“Brother of the Night’s Watch. He told me he would take me North. Will you try to get to Storm’s End once we’re out of the city?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I need to find a way. I heard people talk about the lands between here and the Stormlands being dangerous. Bandits are raiding people in the Kingswood and I heard rumors that my uncle Renly has declared himself King,” Gendry informed her as they now rode under one of the city gates without being stopped.

“How can Renly be the King? My cousin Jon is King now. He will come back and kill Joffrey,” Arya responded.

“Joffrey declared himself King because he could. I guess my uncle thought he should do the same. If I know my father, Renly won’t last long. He doesn’t know anything about war.”

“Come with me to Winterfell. My family will protect you,” Arya told him, hoping he would stay with her. She didn’t know him that well, but she knew he was loyal to the Targaryens and Jon. Her father always said Stannis Baratheon was a man of honor. _Gendry seems like he is honorable._

“I don’t know…” he said as she could see he was wrestling with his decision.

“If you go south, you may be caught by the Lannisters or your uncle’s men. If you stay with me, we can go North to my brother. If you change your mind, we can always go to my grandfather at Riverrun or my aunt in the Eyrie,” Arya told him.

“Alright, I’ll stay. Are you sure this Yoren will not sell me out?”

“If he is hiding me, he will hide you,” Arya said. She could not think of a reason why Yoren would give Gendry to the Lannisters.

Gendry settled into the wagon, sitting against the sacks of wheat and barley behind them. Arya looked back towards the walls of King’s Landing, thankful to have escaped. As they went further along the Kingsroad and the city disappeared, Arya wondered if Robb had called his banners. She wondered when Jon would return to Westeros and take back the Iron Throne.

 

 

**Robb Stark**

It seemed like all of his lords were arguing over what course of action they should take. Robb sat at the center of his table with his mother seated next to him. All he could think of was Joffrey having his father killed and how he would win this war. He had already destroyed his sword earlier and now sat there silently trying to come up with a plan to defeat Tywin Lannister.

He had already seen victory, deceiving the Lannister scouts and surprising Jaime Lannister’s host at Whispering Wood. His plan was executed with perfection but the victory felt sour considering he sent two thousand men to a certain defeat. Most of them likely died. Capturing Jaime Lannister did not save his father and now he wondered what Joffrey would do next. _Is Sansa safe? And the raven from King’s Landing said nothing of Arya. I hope she is alive._

Robb’s thoughts were interrupted when he heard Lord Medger Cerwyn yelling to the other lords about what they should do next. “We should join our forces to Renly Baratheon. He has most of the Stormlords with him and House Tyrell has declared for him,” Lord Cerwyn declared. A few men sounded as if they agreed, but most of the lords let the lord know of their disapproval.

“Renly is Stannis Baratheon’s younger brother. Stannis is the rightful lord of the Stormlands. And Renly is no king. My cousin, Jon Targaryen, is our rightful King. I will not betray him and kneel before Renly,” Robb announced to the lords of the North. Almost all the lords voiced their agreement and nodded. Robb knew most of the lords would be happy to support his cousin’s claim considering he would be the first King to sit the Iron Throne with the blood of the First Men. And they all loved his aunt Lyanna.

“I am sorry my Lord, but we need allies to fight Lord Tywin and our King is across the Narrow Sea. We cannot wait for him to win this war,” Greatjon Umber stated.

“Aye and we will start by freeing Riverrun from its siege. We are only a day’s ride away. My uncle Edmure and the Blackfish know the Riverlands better than we do. When the Riverlords have joined their forces with ours, we can begin to fight Tywin’s host and hopefully hunt down the Mountain,” Robb told the men of his plans. Tywin Lannister had likely moved his host near Harrenhal now that he knows he will not see a battle on the Kingsroad.

As the lords started to empty their horns of ale again, two of his men came forth, escorting a man without armor or a house sigil on his clothing to indicate where he was from. “My Lord, Ser Lyman of House Darry,” one of his soldiers introduced the man as they stepped aside.

“Ser Lyman, what brings you to our camp? Is Castle Darry under siege?” Robb asked the man who was in his early twenties.

“I carry a message from my father. I was instructed the message was for your ears only, my Lord,” Ser Lyman answered.

Robb stood and ordered his men, “Leave us.” All the lords in the tent slowly saw themselves out. Theon was the last to leave after Robb gave him a look that he had this handled. Robb noticed that his mother did not leave. “So what message does your father have for me?”

“Along the road, Lord Jonos Bracken informed me my father sent him a raven. Tywin Lannister is still camped near the Crossroads but he will likely ride for Harrenhal. But that is not why I came. I carry a message from Dragonstone,” Ser Lyman told them in a hushed tone before looking around to make sure no one was listening. “Queen Lyanna and Queen Elia escaped safely from King’s Landing with Princess Rhaenys and Princess Visenya. Lady Ashara Dayne and Allyria Dayne also escaped with them. House Targaryen still holds Dragonstone and controls Blackwater Bay. House Velaryon and most of the lords of the Crownlands have declared for House Targaryen.”

“Can we expect men to be sent from Dragonstone?” Robb asked hoping he could add to his army which was outnumbered.

“For now, no my Lord. My uncle, Ser Jonothor, will command the men at Dragonstone and those loyal to House Targaryen. The royal fleet and House Velaryon are guarding Dragonstone and Driftmark for now. Queen Lyanna and Princess Visenya are leaving for Essos to find our King. Princess Rhaenys plans to sail for Sunspear and rally her uncle’s banners. I must ask that you do not inform your bannermen of their movements. Even those most loyal to you. My father and I are the only ones who know of this besides you.”

Robb was thankful his aunt and cousin were safe. “Do they know if my sister Arya is alive?”

“They do not know what happened to her, I am afraid,” Ser Lyman said with sadness. “There is more I need to tell you. It has been discovered Robert Baratheon had no trueborn heirs. Cersei’s children are Jaime Lannister’s bastards.”

“Bran saw them. He must have. They threw him from the tower and tried to have him murdered!” his mother voiced her anger. Robb chose to put that aside for the moment.

“What of the Kingsguard, did any survive besides your uncle?”

“Ser Arthur Dayne, Ser Oswell Whent, and Lord Commander Ser Barristan Selmy are all on Dragonstone. Prince Lewyn Martell and Ser Edwyn Celtigar were slain defending King Rhaegar and Prince Aegon.”

“If that is all Ser Lyman, my men will see you have a tent to sleep in and food to eat. On the morrow, we ride for Riverrun. You are welcome to stay with us or ride for Castle Darry,” Robb told him.

“Thank you, Lord Stark. I will ride with you to Riverrun and see Lord Hoster before I return to Castle Darry,” Ser Lyman replied before stepping back and walking out of the tent.

“Why aren’t they sending us men or attacking King’s Landing? They surely have the ships and men. King’s Landing doesn’t have an army to defend it,” his mother asked once Lyman Darry was out of sight. Robb turned to find his mother with a frustrated look on her face.

“They would lose too many men taking the city. It is possible but Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur will know the army they could muster is not large enough to take the city and fight Tywin later. And Renly has taken the Stormlands and the Reach. They are being careful and waiting for Jon to return with his own army. I would do the same, but I cannot wait. I have an army and they hold Sansa,” Robb informed his mother. He began to question why Rhaenys was needing to sail to Dorne. “What is strange is Rhaenys having to sail for Sunspear to rally House Martell to her side.”

“Prince Doran hated Rhaegar taking Lyanna as his Queen. He always thought it an insult to Elia. They likely will not support Jon’s claim. If I had to guess, they will push for Rhaenys’ claim to the Iron Throne. They are Dornish,” his mother stated.

“Rhaenys would never betray Jon,” Robb said. He had spent enough time with her in Winterfell and knew from his brother’s stories that Rhaenys was close to him. She did not seem like someone who would turn on family.

“I pray to the Seven she doesn’t. This realm is already divided enough. The last thing we need are the Targaryens fighting each other,” his mother said looking down at the map on the table next to them.

“Are you sure we cannot convince Aunt Lysa to send the knights of the Vale to our side?” he asked knowing they were going to struggle to defeat the army the Westerlands could send forth.

“Lysa isn’t who she used to be. She is so scared of the Lannisters, she won’t even ride to aid of her family. You will have to defeat Tywin without the Vale.”

“We stand alone with the Riverlords for now then,” Robb said looking out onto the map. He wasn’t sure of his next move after they have freed Riverrun.

 

 

**Tyrion Lannister**

Sitting at the end of the table for the war council, Tyrion saw dejected faces on all his father’s bannermen. Jaime was taken prisoner by Robb Stark and his host destroyed. It wouldn’t be long before the northmen would smash the siege of Riverrun and allow the Tully’s to regroup the riverlords. Tyrion started to wish he was back at his tent with his new whore and not here. He didn’t know anything about wars and battle strategy. His most recent efforts in battle proved that.

“They have my son,” his father said as he stood at the end of the table facing away from his lords. Tyrion knew his father and knew he would not let this go unpunished.

No one spoke up. “It appears the Stark boy is less green than we hoped,” Tyrion stated. He didn’t necessarily like Robb Stark when he met him, but he could not deny the boy could turn out to be a capable leader by the way he carried himself.

“I’ve heard his wolf killed a dozen men and as many horses,” the old Lord Damon Marbrand added.

“Is it true about Stannis and Renly?” Lord Leo Lefford asked.

“Both Baratheon brothers have taken up against us. Jaime captured, his army scattered,” his uncle Kevan said with a defeated look. “It’s a catastrophe. Perhaps we should sue for peace.”

Tyrion knocked over the glass in front of him on the table. When it shattered on the ground, all the lords at the table turned their heads toward him. “There is your peace,” he said as he looked at the broken glass. “Joffrey saw to that when he decided to remove Ned Stark’s head. You’ll have an easier time drinking from that cup than bringing Robb Stark to the table now. He’s winning, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“We still have his sisters,” his uncle replied.

“The first order of business should be ransoming Ser Jaime,” Lord Marbrand declared.

“No truces. We can’t afford to look weak,” Lord Lefford said. “We must march on them at once.”

“First we must march to Casterly Rock to raise an…” his uncle answered before being cut off by his father.

“They have my son!” his father yelled. “Get out. All of you.” All the lords immediately followed his father’s command and moved to leave the council. Tyrion began to leave when his father sat down and ordered him, “not you.”

Tyrion grabbed more wine to pour into another cup as his father began to speak. “You were right about Eddard Stark. If he were alive now, we could broker a peace with Winterfell and Riverrun. It would have given us time to deal with Robert’s brothers. Instead, we have stupidity and madness. I always thought you were a stunted fool. Perhaps I was wrong.”

“Half wrong,” Tyrion jested. “I’m new to strategy but unless we want to be surrounded, I don’t think we should stay here.”

“No one will stay here. On the morrow, Ser Gregor will take five hundred men and set the riverlands afire from the God’s Eye to the Red Fork. The rest of us will march for Harrenhal. You will go to King’s Landing.”

“To do what?” he asked. Tyrion did not wish to be in anymore battles but he did not wish to be ordered around by his sister and nephew.

“To rule. You will serve as Hand in my stead. You will bring that boy to heel. And his mother if need be. If you sense treason from any of the rest, Varys, Baelish, Pycelle…”

“Heads, spikes, walls,” Tyrion finished. _Why is my father placing so much faith and trust in me? I’ve never been given such great responsibilities or such a prominent title._

“Why me?” he asked. “Why not my uncle? Why not anyone?”

“Because you are my son,” his father answered. _Now he says so._ “One more thing, you will not bring that whore to court.” _Does he truly think his words will stop me?_

“Before I leave, I must ask. Did you know Cersei planned to have Rhaegar and Aegon killed?” Tyrion could tell from the look in his father’s eyes that stared him down that Cersei acted on her own. “She is a fool. She has them killed but fails to capture the Queens and Princesses. What will we do when Jon Targaryen returns?”

“We will deal with that when the time comes. He is a just a boy. Right now, we will deal with Robb Stark and the Baratheons. Jon Targaryen may be great with a sword but I would be more worried if his brother were still alive.”

Tyrion disagreed. “Robb Stark was just a boy. Jon is a boy who has conquered cities in Essos and I’ve heard the whispers he leads a Dothraki horde. I have met him and will tell you, you shouldn’t underestimate him. He will prove far more difficult to defeat than Robb Stark,” he warned his father.

“Consider it noted. That will be all,” his father replied. Tyrion decided not to push his luck and left his father. Tyrion thought it best to drink and fuck these worries away tonight. _Let others worry over these problems for now. I will have more worries than them all when I get to King’s Landing and rule over that shit city._

 

**Visenya Targaryen**

The sun had just appeared on the horizon and Visenya was making her way down the stone stairs towards the boats on the beach below waiting for them. Their ship awaited them offshore, ready to sail for Qarth. A Magister Illyrio Mopatis had sent an envoy to Dragonstone, letting her family know Jon and Daenerys were likely headed for Qarth. Apparently, her brother and Dany had conquered three cities and led their khalasar to Vaes Dothrak.

As Visenya marched down the steps with her bow and quiver over her shoulder, she looked down at her sword on her hip and thanked the gods her sister saved them. At the bottom of the stairs, she saw Allyria in riding breeches, boots, and a purple sleeveless dress that had a cape similar to her own grey one she wore now. Ashara was next to her in a dark yellow Dornish dress that Visenya thought was ill chosen considering they planned to depart this morning.

When Allyria turned to face her when she stepped on the sand, they embraced each other. Visenya had spent the previous nights with Allyria, trying to comfort her friend. Rhaenys also stayed with them as they would all three fall asleep on Allyria’s bed. She shared the loss of her uncle with Allyria. _How many more of my family will I lose?_

“I wish Rhae was coming with us,” Allyria said as she released Visenya.

“I do too. Are you ready for this journey?” Visenya was not sure she was ready for it herself.

“No. Qarth is far away and I dislike the idea of sailing past Valyria,” Allyria replied. _She would kill me for saying this, but I hope we sail close to my ancestral homeland. I want to see it with my own eyes and not just read about it in books._ When Allyria’s eyes looked past her shoulder, Visenya turned to find their Kingsguard escorting her mother, Elia, Rhaenys, and her grandmother.

Her mother came forward to kiss her cheek before walking on towards the boats at the edge of the water. Ser Arthur walked up and started speaking to his sister. Visenya brought her grandmother in for a hug and tried her best not to let go.

“Stay safe my grandchild. And don’t go around Essos finding ways to use that sword,” her grandmother scolded her as she pulled back to look into her violet eyes that mirrored her own.

“I won’t. I promise. We will be back before too long.”

“I am not so sure,” her grandmother said with a cautious tone. “Jon and my daughter may be of different mind. Now go on before I decide to keep you here with me.” Visenya was thankful she did not ask it of her. She always tried to make her grandmother proud and if she asked, she may actually remain on Dragonstone with her.

Before walking to the boat her mother stepped into with Zokla, who now followed her around, Visenya walked with Silver over towards Rhaenys who stared out at the waves rolling on the sea. Her dark brown hair that was nearly black was blowing in the wind and she had her arms crossed. She looked like she was angry at the entire world. _She has been like that every day since their brother and father were killed._

“I won’t ask you to come with us. Just please be safe and don’t take any risks,” she pleaded with her sister.

“Thank you,” Rhaenys said before hugging her goodbye. “Next time I see you, you will be married and a Queen.”

Visenya couldn’t stop from letting out a small laugh to cover her sadness. “I wish. It is what I always wanted, but now? I will tell Jon I will marry whichever lord he chooses to secure an alliance for the war to come.”

Rhaenys shook her head. “Little sister, do you not know our brother? He made a promise to you. He will keep it.”

“That was when he was just our brother. Now he is our King. Jon will follow his duty and see to it we win back the Iron Throne.” Visenya hoped she was wrong, but she scolded herself for being selfish. Her family was at war and she needed to do her part, despite her hopes and dreams.

“Goodbye sister,” Rhaenys said before pulling her in for one last embrace.

“We will see each other again,” Visenya said with a small smile on her lips.

Visenya began to walk away and fear crept into her mind. Her family splitting in different directions did not sit well with her. _Will Rhaenys and Elia be safe on the journey to Sunspear? Will the Martells support our House? They haven’t called their banners yet. Will my grandmother be safe on Dragonstone, so close to King’s Landing?_

Visenya climbed into the boat with Silver quickly jumping in front of her. Her mother already sat ahead of her, running her hands through Zokla’s fur. “Mother,” she said as her mother nodded in acknowledgement. Ser Barristan then ordered their men to push the boat into the water. Once they were getting near waist-high water, the men hopped onto the boat and took the oars.

Visenya looked to the ship awaiting them, _The Seawolf_. Its sails were still rolled up on its mast and the sailors aboard were already loading their belongings from another boat that was sent ahead of them. This was one of their fastest ships and Visenya hoped the winds would be kind. _What will Qarth be like? Will Jon and Dany even be there? May the Old Gods protect my cousins, sister, and grandmother while we are gone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, I know. Leave comments and tell me what you think. 
> 
> Next chapter, we see Rhaenys at Sunspear finding out what is going on with House Martell. Jon&Dany arrive in Qarth.


	13. Qarth & Dorne's Decision

**299 AC**

**Jon Targaryen**

Qarth turned out to be a pleasant surprise when they first arrived. Jon and Daenerys had led their people through the Red Waste for a moon. By the end of their journey, Jon had grown tired of the barren wasteland. The city they now resided in was far more marvelous than he had expected. In the Red Waste, they discovered a crumbling city with narrow, winding alleys, and little vegetation, long abandoned. Daenerys named the dead city Vaes Tolorro, for the bones they found within the remains of many buildings.

Qarth was the complete opposite to Vaes Tolorro. Qarth was full of life, water, trees and flowers growing on terraces, fountains at every square, and statues lining the streets. The harbor was always full and busy with new ships arriving every day. Daenerys pointed out that the markets seemed to always be alive and packed with traders travelling from the east and west.

When they first arrived, the Thirteen of Qarth met them outside the gates and questioned their motives. The spice king, who did not give his true name for he said it was too long, was ready to send them away before Xaro Xhoan Daxos let them in. He invoked some blood oath Jon wasn’t familiar with to bring them into Qarth as his guests. During the past fortnight, they had stayed at Xaro’s manse which was more decadent than any place he had been in his life.

Jon felt Xaro, like the rest of the merchants in this city, loved to show off their wealth. Day after day, they attended a feast of sorts, much different to those held in Westeros. Whenever Jon tried to bring up the topic of establishing trade for Pentos, the Thirteen delayed. Even Daenerys, who was far better at diplomacy and interacting with members of court, failed to move negotiations forward. As the days passed, Jon grew suspicious of his hosts.

Those suspicions were confirmed in the morning when they went to the courtyard below their room where their dragons built a lair of sorts. When Daenerys went to visit the dragons with Arya in her arms, Jon heard her scream from their room. Rushing down the stone stairs of the manse in a panic, he found his wife safe with only nine dragons in front of them. _How could someone have taken Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion? They did not fly away. And they have grown far too quickly to be carried away without a struggle._

Now Jon sat next to Daenerys as she gripped his hand as hard as she could. Xaro Xhoan Daxos stood across from them, waiting to see the Thirteen. While Rakharo and Kovarro served as their guards, Jon ordered Ser Jorah and their best warriors to guard their children and the other dragons. When Xaro wasn’t looking, Jon looked the man up and down. He did not trust him and suspected he was at the very least complicit in this plot. Xaro did his best to assure Dany and cool her temper when she voiced her fury at having her dragons stolen from her as a guest in this city.

“They are ready to see you,” a servant informed them as he walked into the simple room they sat in. Xaro had told them it would be best to meet with the Thirteen at the spice king’s manse in hopes of discovering the thief.

Through the doors they stepped to find a large room with a crescent wooden table covered with food on golden plates and jeweled cups that seemed fit for a king. “For what reason have you sought audience with the Thirteen?” the spice king asked.

“We are here to find the thief who has taken my dragons!” Daenerys responded with her face already turning red. “I will have them returned to me!”

“Who are you to accuse us?” the spice king questioned with an incredulous look on his face. Jon did not like this man but he also doubted he had the courage to make a move against them. He seemed to be a blunter, more honest version of Illyrio. _Not that that is saying much._

“When you came to this city, you were threatening our lives. Now you ask for our help?” a bearded man who Jon recalled was a merchant who dealt with precious gems replied.

“Without me the dragons will die…” Daenerys pleaded.

“Your dragons will bring nothing but death and misery to this world. If I knew where they were, I would not tell you my dear,” the spice king told his wife.

“You are cruel my friend. The Mother of Dragons is in the right. She belongs with her dragons,” the warlock spoke up. Jon grew nervous as the words poured out of the warlock’s blue-tinted lips. They had seen his tricks before and Jon was skeptical of their supposed magic. “I will bring her to her dragons, at the House of the Undying, where I placed them.”

“You have our dragons?” Jon questioned as he moved his hand to grip Longclaw.

“When I learned you were coming to our city, I made an arrangement with the King of Qarth. He procured them for me,” the warlock responded. His declaration earned laughs around the table.

“There is no King of Qarth,” the spice king declared.

“There is now,” Xaro answered as he stepped forward, looking around at the Thirteen. “You would have our city closed off to the world. I will open up Qarth to the world as I have forced it to open itself to me.”

“Like any upstart, you overreach. An alliance with a charlatan and three dragons the size of dogs? That does not make you a king,” the spice king warned Xaro. If the Thirteen were not going to kill Xaro and the warlock, Jon was.

“An upstart and a charlatan. Empires have been built by less,” Xaro replied.

“The Mother of Dragons will be reunited with her children,” the warlock said. As he did, Jon noticed hooded figures step from the behind the Thirteen. One by one, the hooded figures slit the throats of everyone at the table. Blood poured onto the food that lay on the table and Jon was repulsed at the blatant murder. When his gaze drifted to the murderers, he found the warlock’s face on each of the perpetrators.

Jon held Daenerys close behind him to protect her from their daggers. When one of them stepped forward, Jon sent Longclaw through the man’s chest only to have his robes fall to the floor empty with no body lying in them. As he looked around, no more remained in the room.

All that remained was Xaro Xhoan Daxos who now held a nervous look. His newfound allies seemed to have abandoned him. “It seems the warlocks do not care for your safety. Do not lie to me. Are my dragons at the House of the Undying?” Daenerys asked.

“Please, Princess. I will help you get your dragons back,” Xaro pleaded as Rakharo and Kovarro stepped forward with their arakhs drawn ready to strike him down.

“Are they at the House of the Undying?” she asked again.

“Yes. Please, I can make you the richest…,” Xaro pleaded before Jon raised Longclaw and removed the man’s head from his torso. _He is lucky I gave him a quick death. Daenerys would have likely given him to our other dragons._

“Take the key around his neck. He said it unlocks the great vault in his manse. He won’t be needing of it now,” Daenerys ordered in Dothraki. Kovarro was quick to pull the oddly shaped golden key from the chain around what remained of Xaro’s neck.

“Rakharo, when we get back to the manse, gather all our men. They need to be ready to fight. Kovarro, you will lead half our men to secure the harbor. Rakharo, you will lead the other half to secure the city watch,” Jon ordered their men.

“What about our dragons? I will not abandon them,” Daenerys protested.

“And we won’t. Ser Jorah will lead us to this House of the Undying immediately. I will kill every warlock I see and return the dragons to you,” Jon promised his wife before pulling her in for a kiss. Releasing her, he continued, “Let’s get back to the manse and make sure our children are safe.”

 

 

**Rhaenys Targaryen**

Rhaenys was thankful for the cool breeze rolling off the ocean as she was escorted through the walls of Sunspear with her mother, Ser Oswell Whent, and ten of her household guard in their black armor. The Sandship, Spear Tower, and Tower of the Sun appeared the same as when she last left as they stood baking under the Dornish sun.

The guards of House Martell led them up the straight path through the Threefold Gate directly to the Old Palace. Rhaenys did not see many people as they walked into the keep belonging to her mother’s family. It hurt more than she thought it would to return. It was here at Sunspear, along with the Water Gardens where she fell in love with Aegon and shared so many memories. At every turn, she was reminded of a moment spent with Aegon that she would never experience again.

Finally making their way into the throne room beneath the Tower of the Sun in the Old Palace, Rhaenys saw her uncle sitting on his throne. She was happy to see him on the throne and not in his wheeled chair he so often sat in at the Water Gardens watching the children play. Standing behind him was his faithful guard, Areo Hotah, with his usual longaxe in hand. Her cousin, Arianne, stood along the wall to the right with her brothers. Her uncle Oberyn stood on the pale marble floor to their left. Rhaenys could see the anger painted on his face. It was the same anger she felt when she lost her brother and father. _Their deaths have weighed on me so heavily, I am ashamed to say I forget I have also lost an uncle._

“Sister, Princess, it is good to see you both alive. When we first received news from King’s Landing, we feared the worst. Those who killed my brother and nephew will pay with their lives,” her uncle Doran declared.

“Uncle, we sent a raven when we reached Dragonstone. Did our raven not reach Sunspear?” she asked knowing the answer. _My uncle, Prince Doran Martell, received my call for his banners. He wants something from us._

“I received your raven. It called for House Martell and our bannermen to fight for your brother. I will not risk Dornish lives to seat a bastard on the Iron Throne,” her uncle informed her as he leant forward in his chair. Rhaenys could not believe what she was hearing and looked to her uncle Oberyn who appeared to disagree with Doran.

“How dare you!” her mother yelled.

“How dare me? How dare Rhaegar. He betrayed you and slighted our House when he took that northern whore for his wife. I will not fight for her or her bastard children.”

“I will not stand here and listen to this brother. You are turning your back on family,” her mother said with rage before leaving her side. Rhaenys could not believe her mother was already giving up on rallying their family to their side.

“Uncle, the Lannisters killed Lewyn. They killed Aegon. They killed my father. I am asking you. If not for my brother, call your banners for me. Call them for uncle Lewyn. Call them for my brother who was stabbed in the back,” she pleaded. Her uncle’s face was unreadable. It always had been to her and she hoped he was changing his mind.

“I will call the banners for Queen Rhaenys Targaryen. For you to sit the Iron Throne. You are the only heir I recognize,” her uncle promised.

“You would have me betray my brother? To steal his claim? To fight my brother and sister?”

“I would have you take what is yours by right. I will not go to war and see my people killed to sit a northerner on the Iron Throne. This is Dorne and you are the oldest child of the King,” her uncle spoke with his eyes locked with hers.

Rhaenys’ eyes drifted to her cousins who were looking to her for an answer. Quentyn and Trystane seemed to agree with their father while Arianne appeared to be on her side. Arianne knew her brother and sister. She got along with them and did not see them as rivals. _Why does my uncle call Jon and Visenya bastards? He had never voiced these grievances before. And a Dornishman hating bastards? He is hungry for power and will exploit the leverage he now holds over me._

“No. I will not betray my family and steal my brother’s crown. I cannot believe you will let those who have murdered your own blood go unpunished. I thought you loved me. I thought you loved my brother. I see you now for what you are. I am sailing for Essos on the morrow,” she told her uncle who showed his disappointment. When Rhaenys turned around to leave and was several feet from the doors, two guards crossed their spears to stop her retreat. “You would make me your prisoner?” she asked when she turned around.

“You are free to go. I must warn you however. If you leave Sunspear, I cannot protect you and will not fight for House Targaryen as long as your brother lays his claim before yours.”

Rhaenys nodded to show her understanding and left the throne room as soon as she could to find her mother. Knowing where their guestrooms would be, she walked down the pink marbled hallways through the Old Palace. This place felt like a home away from home to Rhaenys before. Now it felt like a stranger’s home. _My uncle and House Martell have turned their backs on me. They are betraying what Aegon would have wanted._

When she came upon her mother’s room, Rhaenys found two maids walking out of the door and giving proper curtsies as she marched past them. Her mother stood across the room against the open window overlooking the sea. Her mother must have heard her come in. “It was a mistake coming here. I thought Doran would do anything for family. I was wrong,” her mother said as Rhaenys now stood at the window.

“I will not stay here mother. I failed to persuade uncle Doran. He will not see Jon sit the Iron Throne,” she said as she looked out onto the crashing waves. “I should have listened to Visenya. When Doran did not answer our ravens, I ignored the truth. I fear that by the time we find Jon, the war will be over.” _Tywin Lannister has the advantage. The kingdoms are divided. Dorne and the Vale sit by and watch. The Baratheons are divided, likely to fight each other. Only the Starks and Tullys are united._

“I’m sorry for my father,” she heard Arianne apologize. Rhaenys found her cousin had made her way into the room with regretful eyes. “I’ve tried to convince him otherwise, but he does not listen to me. He thinks me impulsive like Oberyn. They are still arguing right now.”

“Thank you, Ari,” Rhaenys smiled as her cousin hugged her. She had not seen her cousin for some time and was glad to know she had some of her family still loyal to her. Arianne was always close with her and Rhaenys knew in time, her cousin would make a great ruler of Dorne. Her bond with Arianne would secure the Targaryen rule over Dorne more so than ever.

“Where will you go?” her cousin asked.

“Qarth. Supposedly, Jon and Daenerys planned to visit the city. We will try to find them there.” Rhaenys wondered if they would still be there. It seemed like her brother and aunt were always on the move, conquering new lands.

“I hope the winds are kind. When you return, send for me or Oberyn. We will gather as many loyal men as we can. I don’t care what my father says, I will follow you and if Jon is your King, then he is mine,” Arianne vowed.

“Thank you,” Rhaenys said softly as she held her cousin’s hands in hers for a brief moment, “I will remember this Ari. I will let my brother know of your loyalty when I find him.”

When her cousin left her mother’s chambers, Rhaenys retired to her chambers shortly after with Shadow waiting for her. She spent the rest of her day sipping on a dornish red, thinking about Aegon and all their memories from their time at Sunspear. Rhaenys still could not believe she would never see him again, have his lips trace across her body, hear him whisper in her ear, or feel him inside her. _I will never find that love again._

 

 

**Visenya Targaryen**

Leaning against the railing along the side of their ship, Visenya’s gaze did not leave the shoreline two miles or so to the north. Just beyond the beach, the coastline was filled with trees and greenery. Further beyond the tree line appeared a layer of mist that Visenya guessed hid many mysteries.

“Old Valyria,” Allyria mused next to her, “I am surprised you haven’t jumped off the side and begun swimming to shore. If I had to guess, you are reading a book about Valyria right now.” _She wasn’t wrong._ Visenya had always been fascinated by the tales of her ancestors and the great wonders of the once great civilization. Whenever she had a chance, she read any book that she could glean new knowledge about the Valyrians before the Doom.

“Aye. But I don’t think Silver here would appreciate such action. I fear she would try and follow me into the sea,” she replied as she passed her hand through her direwolf’s fur.

Appearing to her right at Silver’s side, her mother looked at her and Allyria before looking towards the lands they sailed past. “Don’t get any ideas my daughter,” her mother warned her with some amusement in her voice. Her mother knew she truly wouldn’t do anything so foolish. “You know better than anyone what happened to Princess Aerea. King Jaehaerys forbade anyone from travelling to Old Valyria for a reason.”

“I hate that story. Aerea did not deserve it,” Visenya reflected. Aerea was a Targaryen she admired. A willful young princess who was fearless and claimed Balerion as her mount. The cruel ending Aerea met always made her feel sad for the princess who may have been a queen.

“Allyria, would you give us a moment?” her mother asked. Without saying a word, Allyria left her side and walked over to Ashara standing on the other side of the ship with Arthur and Barristan Selmy. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine mother,” she answered, hoping her mother would not prod her with more questions.

“We haven’t talked about your father or brother. Not really since Dragonstone anyways,” her mother said. Visenya still mourned for them. It hadn’t really hit her until they burned their bodies on the funeral pyres at Dragonstone. Her family would always be grateful to Ser Barristan for recovering their bodies before the Lannisters could take them. When their bodies were placed on the pyres, she failed to find the words to honor them. Visenya would always regret that. The Kingsguard’s words were enough and she felt they did her brother’s and father’s memories justice.

“No, we haven’t. They deserved better than to be slain by Viserys and the Lannisters. I wish I could have been there. To help them. To…,” Visenya said as she thought of things she could have done differently that day.

“There is nothing you could have done. No one knew Viserys would betray us. Betray his family,” her mother comforted her. _He is not family. He never was._ “We just need to find Jon and Dany now. Return them home, to Dragonstone. I wish your father would have lived to see his grandchild. I cannot wait to lay my eyes upon the babe. I’m sure you cannot wait to be reunited with those two.” Her mother gave her a knowing look that stirred feelings within herself she now tried to bury.

“That was before. Before all of this,” Visenya stated. “I will do my part for this family. Jon will need allies to reclaim the Seven Kingdoms and I will marry whoever to help him take it.”

“Oh my sweet daughter, you think Jon will give you away to some lord? No. I know my son and you know all too well he would not do that,” her mother said. All Visenya could do was laugh, thinking about what her sister said before they set sail. “What are you laughing at?”

“Something Rhaenys said. She said the same thing. She told me Jon would not use me to secure an alliance and I told her that was before he was King,” Visenya replied. In her heart, Visenya still dreamed of Jon taking her as his wife and now queen.

“And your sister was right for once. Just you wait and see,” her mother promised with a smirk on her lips.

Visenya hoped she was right. It was a selfish feeling she tried to put away but failed to do so. She knew her duty was to her House and self-sacrifice would be needed in the wars to come.

 

 

**Daenerys Targaryen**

“This is it?” she questioned as she looked up at the simple stone tower that was not impressive nor grand.

“The House of the Undying, my Princess,” Ser Jorah said with his hand resting on his sword ready to fight any warlocks who aimed to do them harm.

“It doesn’t look like much,” Jon stated as he stood next to her.

“No, but do not underestimate the warlocks. Some call it parlor tricks, but their sorcery is strong,” Jorah warned. “Perhaps it is best to leave and sail for Pentos.”

“A mother does not leave her children. The dragons belong to us,” she told the old knight. _He doesn’t understand the connection we share. Only Jon understands._

“Ser Jorah, see to it that we have control of the city and bribe the necessary people in order to minimize any resistance,” Jon ordered. Daenerys was thankful they had already sought out the right traders and powerful men in the city that were not part of the Thirteen. They had learned from their previous conquests that these cities were weak without an army and finding the right individuals eased their efforts.

Daenerys began to climb the stone stairs leading up to the stone tower reaching up above the circular stone wall that surrounded the House of the Undying. Once at the top of the stairs, she found no entrance to the warlocks’ house. _Is this some trick?_ Daenerys found her feet carrying her around the tower, looking for a door that would lead her to her stolen dragons. The further she walked, the more her pace quickened. She heard Jon call for her but did not listen to his warnings.

Focused on retrieving her children, she found a small opening within the stones and ducked her head as she stepped into the darkness. Once inside the House of the Undying, Daenerys found a lit brazier along the stairs leading further into the building. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she found herself in a hallway that led her to the right or left. It was then, she heard the cries of her dragons.

The sound of her dragons led her down the hallway to her left. Her path was a maze and she eventually turned a corner, only to find the throne room of the Red Keep before her. Only something was different. Snow covered the marble floor of the throne room and as Daenerys took steps towards the Iron Throne, she saw the roof was destroyed. Snowflakes were falling from a grey sky. _More illusions._ Daenerys began to reach for the throne only to hear the cries of her dragons and left the snow-covered throne behind her.

All she found was more trickery from the warlocks. Winding her way through the narrow passageways before her, Daenerys walked through a tunnel and a gate to the chill of cold northern winds. Taking in her surroundings, she realized this was the Wall and before her was the Haunted Forest. Moving closer to the forest, Daenerys saw blue eyes within the shadows behind the trees. They were haunting and intimidating. She did not know what this meant. _Are the warlocks trying to frighten me?_

Turning around, Daenerys returned to the entrance of the Wall. At the end of the tunnel, the illusions disappeared and she ran to the cries of her dragons that grew louder. Soon enough, her dragons were in the middle of a room illuminated by sunlight waiting for her. Just within reach of her dragons, she found a warlock at her side pulling on an iron chain that shackled her right arm. Another appeared and shackled her left arm.

“Our magic has grown strong in their presence. And they are strongest in their mother’s presence. You will be with them forever. Summer. Fall. Winter. Spring. You shall be with them, here with us,” several of the warlocks proclaimed.

_These men are not dragons._ Tilting her head up, Daenerys smiled at the warlocks before ordering Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion to burn them. “Dracarys.” The warlocks failed to hide their own fear as they recognized the fire building within her dragons. A moment later, dragonfire consumed the warlocks in their robes and their screams filled the room. As the warlocks burned, her shackles broke apart and she was released along with her dragons. Daenerys found that all the warlocks had disappeared except one, who now laid before her a molten corpse.

Not hesitating to escape this place, Daenerys led the dragons down the corridor and up the first set of stairs she could find. Climbing the stairs, she heard Jon’s yells and knew she would find her way out. The warlocks’ sorcery was gone and finding the exit was easy. Emerging into the sunlight, Daenerys saw Jon and ran into his arms.

Tilting her head back, she found her husband inspecting her face and body with great concern. “Are you well? Did they harm you?” All she could do was shake her head to let him know she was alright.

“A dragon is not a slave,” she whispered in Valyrian before turning around to find her dragons on the ground looking up at them. “They are likely starving. Let us return to the manse and see they are fed.”

Looking down at the dragons, she knelt to brush the side of each of their heads. “I promise, I will not let you be taken from me again.” _Soon they will be large enough that no one will be able to steal them. They are already almost too heavy to hold._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for a chapter that I felt was wasted in Qarth. Tried to make it diverge from canon, but failed to come up with any ideas. Only one more chapter in Qarth and I think it is far better than this one. Visenya, Lyanna, & the Daynes are getting close to finding Jon & Dany. Rhaenys now knows she cannot count on Doran. Rhaenys is too close to Jon to betray him and will soon be on her way to Essos.
> 
> Leave comments to tell me what you think or if you have questions. Do not worry, next chapter in Qarth is completely divergent from canon.


	14. Dragons Reunited

**Visenya Targaryen**

Qarth was unlike anything she had ever seen. The harbor was filled with ships from all over the world. Visenya imagined they carried all sorts of spices, jewels, silks, wines, and other goods that would make these traders rich. While _The Seawolf_ moved slowly into the center of the harbor, the rest of the thirty ships that set sail with them from Dragonstone made port at the docks on the outer edge of the harbor. As their men tied up the ship along the dock, Visenya was right behind Ser Arthur crossing the gangplank. Silver was right behind her, eager to set her paws on land. She could tell her direwolf was tired of the sea.

While their party walked down the docks, Visenya noticed all the ships they were passing had newly painted sails. Sails that were black and red. One of them was unfurled and she instantly recognized the sigil of her house on it. Finally reaching the end of the docks, they walked past sailors and merchants moving their cargo on and off the docks. Visenya found they were making their way through a small bazaar along the harbor and Ser Arthur led them through the gate that led into Qarth itself. Visenya had read about the three walls than surrounded Qarth and kept invaders out. The wall along the harbor was not that impressive. It was short and looked like it would be easy for a determined army to storm. _Qarth protects itself well from enemies on land, but not those from the sea._

Not even making it one hundred feet into the city, four copper skinned men with long black hair rode their horses down the street and came to a halt before them. _These must be Dothraki by the looks of their curved blades and general appearance._ The riders spoke in their harsh foreign tongue to each other as one of them eyed her with a funny look on his face. When they finished conversing, one moved his horse forward and with a heavy accent said, “Targaryen.” She wasn’t sure if he was asking if they were of House Targaryen or stating so.

“This is Princess Visenya Targaryen and Queen Lyanna Stark,” Ser Arthur informed the warrior looming above him on the great black destrier. His declaration seemed to earn a nod from the Dothraki, but as soon as Ser Arthur moved forward the riders halted him, saying something in their foreign tongue. They stood in the middle of the street for some time before what looked to be a man from Westeros came riding down the street with more Dothraki. “I don’t believe it,” Ser Arthur said stepping towards the man.

“Ser Jorah Mormont of Bear Island,” she heard her mother yell behind her. Visenya recognized the name and wondered what the man was doing in Qarth. She knew his tale and his crimes but could not find herself to care at the moment. Visenya looked on as her mother stepped past her with Zokla at her side. “It is good to see a familiar face this far from home.”

“What is a Queen and Princess of the Seven Kingdoms doing in Qarth?” he asked after dismounting his horse.

“We have come to bring our family home,” her mother answered. She noticed the hitch in her voice before she continued, “We have come to retrieve our King.”

Ser Jorah’s face went pale before responding, “King Rhaegar and Prince Aegon are dead?” Her mother simply nodded with dread covering her face again. “I am sorry my Queen. I will take you to your son and his wife. I have served them since they took Pentos.”

Jorah Mormont then spoke Dothraki and a short time later the riders came to them with horses for them to ride. As they rode further into the city, Visenya saw that its people came from all over the world. Most of the people were obviously from Essos but others could be mistaken for Westerosi and others appeared to be from the Summer Isles or Sothoryos. The buildings and manses they passed were elegant and remarkable to look at with the beautiful plants and palm trees that covered the terraces. Fountains could be found at every square they crossed. Visenya was happy to visit a city in Essos that did not practice slavery, but she knew from lessons with her father that it did not mean Qarth did not profit from the practice.

Visenya was grateful when their procession through the city came to an end when they halted in a courtyard within the walls of a decadent manse. The courtyard had a great fountain and the walls were lined with great palm trees and exotic flowers. Silver, Winter, and Zokla ran forward and howled to the sky. She questioned what caused them to act this way until she heard a howl in return and laid eyes on Snow and Ghost running out of the manse towards the direwolves. The reunion seemed to send the wolves into a frenzy and they soon ran off after each other around the manse.

Her eyes returned to the archway leading into the manse and saw Daenerys emerge in a light blue dress with golden designs that would be the envy of ladies at court. Without thinking, she ran to Daenerys and pulled her aunt in for a hug. “What are you doing here?” Visenya felt her heart sink because for the briefest of moments, she had forgotten the tragedy and betrayal that struck their family. Her face must have given away her feelings when she saw Daenerys grow concerned.

Before she could tell Daenerys what had happened, she saw Jon walk through with a large smile on his face. _A rare sight._ Visenya jumped into her brother’s arms and buried her face into the crook of his neck as her legs wrapped around his waist. “It is good to see you Senya,” he nearly whispered as she inhaled his familiar scent. “Are you going to let me go?” She didn’t want to, but finally eased her grip and settled her feet back to the ground.

Jon must have read the looks on their faces when his smile disappeared. “What is it? What is wrong?” Visenya tried to find her voice but could not as she felt tears roll down her face. She hadn’t cried for the father, brother, and uncle she had lost for some time. Breaking the news to Jon and Daenerys brought back those emotions and she could not hold them back.

“Your father and brother are dead,” her mother said.

“What? How?” Daenerys asked while Jon just stared at them with a crushed look on his face.

“They were killed by Viserys. He betrayed us. He betrayed us all. The Lannisters helped him do it,” Visenya answered before her mother could. Daenerys immediately fell into tears as Jon pulled her into his chest trying to sooth her pain. He did not cry, but Visenya knew her brother and could tell he was doing his best to put on a strong face.

After giving them a moment to take in the news, Jon turned to them after whispering into Daenerys’ ear. “What about Rhaenys? Where is our sister? Where is Elia and grandmother?” her asked with a worried look.

“Rhaenys and Elia sailed for Sunspear wanting to rally Dorne to our side. We begged them to come with us but they did not listen. Rhaella is on Dragonstone,” her mother informed them. “And that is not all. They executed your uncle and have Sansa as a hostage. We do not know what happened to Arya.”

The additional news finally broke Jon and he fell to his knees. Daenerys knelt across from him and leaned her brow into his as she promised they would avenge them. Visenya hated seeing this. Daenerys discovered one brother killed another. Jon lost Aegon who was his best friend and brother. He also lost their father and uncle who was like a father to him. And finding out Arya was missing was devastating for Visenya knew their cousin held a special place in his heart.

When Jon and Daenerys finally stood up from the ground, they hugged her mother who was also crying after telling them about the murders of their loved ones. Ashara and Allyria also came over to embrace her brother and aunt. _They are Daynes, but they are family we chose._

“I don’t understand, who rules at King’s Landing now?” Daenerys asked.

“Joffrey Baratheon has declared himself King with the backing of House Lannister, my Queen,” Ashara Dayne informed Daenerys.

“My Queen?” Daenerys asked.

“Yes, you are the Queen now,” her mother assured Dany while holding her hands. “Jon is our rightful King and you are his Queen.” It was a lot to take in and Visenya could see it on Dany’s face.

When her mother finished, Barristan Selmy and Arthur Dayne stepped forward. Getting on one knee, both held their swords before Jon. “We were sworn to protect your father and brother. We failed them. Allow us to join your Kingsgaurd and we will not fail your family again,” Barristan vowed.

“Rise Ser Barristan, Ser Arthur. You are not to blame. I would be honored to have you serve me as you served my father before me,” Jon informed his Kingsguard.

“Let us go inside, there is more we wish to know about what has occurred in King’s Landing,” Daenerys spoke before gesturing for everyone to follow them inside the manse.

Their manse was just as extravagant on the inside as it appeared from the outside. Gold and silver could be found wherever one laid their eyes in the manse. Jon and Daenerys led them into a living area that held six couches and a dozen chairs. Outside the window, Visenya noticed several colorful birds with large beaks she had never seen. Her brother and Dany had come into enormous wealth. That much she had gathered.

Once everyone took a seat, including Ser Jorah, they all began to tell their story of their escape from the Red Keep and who all they had lost that day. Daenerys thanked Ser Barristan several times for recovering Aegon and Rhaegar’s bodies so they could receive proper funeral rites on Dragonstone. As soon as Arthur began to inform Jon of the fighting in Riverlands, Jon held up his hand. “I have heard enough bad news Arthur. I will hear from you on the morrow,” he ordered before turning to their mother. “Would you like to see your grandchildren?”

“Grandchildren?” her mother asked with wide eyes.

“Yes, grandchildren. Let us go get them,” Daenerys warmly replied with the first smile on her face since they first arrived. Jon and Dany stood from their sofa and disappeared around the corner down a hallway. Visenya finally felt some joy, knowing she had new family members.

Moments later, Daenerys walked in with a small boy with raven curls and violet eyes in her arms. She placed the babe in her mother’s arms. “His name is Rhaegar,” she told them, earning a smile from her mother. Jon walked in with another child with silver hair and grey eyes like his own, placing the baby in her own arms. “Her name is Arya.”

Visenya did not move her eyes off her niece who smiled in her arms. “She’s beautiful,” Visenya said with pride. _I will be sure to teach this one how to swing a sword and handle a bow._

“They’re both beautiful,” her mother added. “I am so happy for the both of you.”

After what felt like an hour of doting on her niece, her mother carried little Rhaegar over to her. Her mother took Arya in her arms so Visenya could hold Rhaegar in her arms. The little prince was obviously tired already and was asleep in her grasp. She hoped the babe in her arms would turn out to be a honorable Crown Prince one day who would eventually become a good King. _Like his namesake. Like my eldest brother would have been. Like Jon will be._

They spent another hour in the room and Visenya was thankful the babes were all they spoke of. She was worn down from talking about Westeros and the murders of their family. Eventually Ashara and Allyria held the small prince and princess. During this time, it almost felt like they were home. Surrounded by family, it all almost felt normal except Rhaenys, Elia, and her grandmother were not present.

Eventually, Visenya listened to Jon and Daenerys speak of their journey from Pentos to Vaes Dothrak to Qarth. She found herself envious of missing out on their travels and not getting to see these foreign lands. All she knew of the Great Grass Sea and the Red Waste came from her books. Jon dismissed his accomplishments, but Daenerys made sure to tell them of his defeat of Khal Drogo and the battle outside Qohor. One thing she did not understand was how they were able to gain control of all the Dothraki. Just as she was about to ask them to elaborate, Rhaegar woke and cried for his mother. This in turn seemed to stir Arya and she began to cry as well.

Daenerys gathered both of them from the ladies of House Dayne. “They are likely hungry now,” she informed them.

Just as Daenerys was about to leave the room with the children, Visenya heard a wild screech from outside the manse. It was unlike anything her ears had ever heard. _Have our direwolves killed some animal? No, it did not sound like a screech of pain from prey._

“What in the seven hells was that?” Lady Ashara asked after she jumped from her seat to look behind at the open terrace beyond the room.

“I’m sorry, we forgot to tell you,” Jon said before pausing as if he was carefully contemplating his next words. “Perhaps it is best we show you. I don’t think you would believe us if we told you.”

Jon stood and lifted Arya from Daenerys’ grasp so she did not have to carry both babes around. Jon and Daenerys both led them down the corridor they traversed earlier. The further they walked in the manse, the more questions Visenya had for her brother. _Where did they get the coin to purchase this place and fill it with all of this?_

Eventually they reached a terrace that was covered by a roof overlooking lush gardens and a fountain below. She followed her brother down the stone stairs at the side of the terrace and found their direwolves walking amongst the trees in the garden. Jon walked past the fountain towards grass as green as that found in the Crownlands. The trees on their left held oranges and peaches. To their right, the manse shielded them from the bright sun on this clear day. Just as they were turning to the left around the tree line to what appeared to be a clearing, she heard the screech just above her and she dove to the ground when she heard large wings beat the air overhead.

When her eyes looked ahead at the source of the noise, she could not believe what she saw. In front of Jon was a living dragon with dark grey scales. It was the very image of all the paintings in the Red Keep and Dragonstone. _Are my eyes playing tricks on me?_ “That is a dragon,” she managed to stammer out.

“His name is Vermithrex,” Jon said as the dragon nudged it snout against Jon’s leg. “He is growing a bit faster than the others, I think.”

“Others?” Visenya asked in disbelief.

“Yes, others. We have eleven more,” Daenerys said with pride standing next to her. “They were born in the flames of Vaes Dothrak. We burned the khals and their bloodriders. Fire doesn’t hurt a dragon. They perished in the flames. We did not.” _She always liked to put her hands in the flames. I cannot believe they hatched real dragons._ “Come, you must see the others.”

Crossing the small grass clearing, Visenya laid her eyes upon the greatest sight she had ever seen. The dragons had made somewhat of a lair with molten bones littered on the ground around them. When the beasts took note of their presence, they let out fierce screams making Visenya nervous to approach them. “Do not fear them sister, you are the blood of Old Valyria. They will not harm you,” Jon encouraged her.

When she stepped forward, she thought she heard her mother plead with her to stay but she could not be sure. All her attention was focused on the dragons and they were magnificent creatures. In an instant, three of the dragons flew a few feet, landing nearly on top of her. They did not bite, or claw, or try to burn her. All three looked to her as if looking for some direction. Visenya decided she must be brave like the dragonriders of old and knelt down to move her hand along their smooth scales. “They’re marvelous.” She had no more words to describe them or this experience.

The largest of the three leapt into her arms to her dismay. The dragon was the size of a dog if she counted its wings. The silver-scaled beast seemed heavier than it appeared. She couldn’t help but smile as it let out a proud screech to the sky. Visenya couldn’t explain it but she held a connection to these dragons that was as strong as her connection to Silver.

“We haven’t named these three,” Daenerys said behind her. “The black one is Drogon, Rhaegal is the green one, and Viserion with the gold-cream scales. They are mine. Jon is closest to Vermithrex as you have seen. The bronze scaled dragon is named Sonar and the black and grey scaled one over there is Stormfyre. They prefer Jon. These three will be yours. The others should go to Rhaenys, I think.”

Looking down upon the three before her, Visenya found her mind racing to come up with proper names. She loved tales of Good Queen Alysanne and her dragon, Silverwing. Both flew north to Winterfell and the Wall. Visenya couldn’t think of a better dragon to be named after than the one that visited her northern family’s home. “I shall call you Silverclaw. You will fly me to the North one day and we shall visit Uncle Aemon.”

Turning to the other two dragons, she found it harder to name them. Looking into the eyes of the dragon with dark blue scales, she felt he looked like a dark blue sky just before night turned the sky black. “You will be called Darkskye,” she declared and turned to the other beast with bright, flame-red scales. “Vyraxes, that will be your name.” _Most of the Valyrian gods had been used to name the dragons in our family. Why not just mix Vhagar and Meraxes together?_

“Do they breathe flames like the dragons of old?” Allyria asked.

“They do, much to the displeasure of the former warlocks in this city,” Daenerys replied as Visenya still focused on her newfound companions. _I hope they get along with Silver._

“I am sure there is a story behind that,” her mother stated.

“Can mine fly more than a few feet?” Visenya asked after she pet them enough.

“Yes. They are yours now. Tell them to fly and they will do so,” Daenerys said with a smile and Rhaegar rocking in her arms.

Visenya nodded and turned to look back down at her dragons. “Sovegon,” she whispered and the dragons turned around, beating their wings and lifting off the ground. She couldn’t help but marvel at the sight of them flying in circles above them. It was graceful and elegant. _I wish father were here to see this. Aegon too. Father always loved to tell tales of the dragons._

The rest of their afternoon was spent in the gardens admiring the dragons as they flew around. Visenya learned to feed hers from Jon. It seemed they liked to burn all their meat before eating it. To her surprise, they seemed to get along with the direwolves. She guessed being around Ghost and Snow since they were born made a direwolf seem an ordinary presence.

When the sun began to set, they were served a grand meal within the dining hall that held a long table that could seat thirty. Much like the rest of the manse, the plates and silverware were elegant and eye-catching, even for a family as rich as hers. She tried the new foods before her and was pleasantly surprised at the taste of the foreign meal. While they ate, she heard Jorah inform Jon that their sailors and household guard had been given quarters near the manse.

The day was long and when the meal ended, Jon and Daenerys showed them to the guest quarters. The first rooms were given to Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur. They initially protested, saying they should stand guard outside the King’s chambers but Jon dismissed them. He ordered them to get their rest and informed them Ghost would be a suitable guard for this night.

Allyria and Ashara were given large and exquisite chambers that looked appropriate for any royal let alone highborn ladies. Finally, they bid her mother goodnight as she was shown the chambers next to Ashara’s. Visenya felt her eyes grow heavy and knew she was ready to find sleep.

Jon and Daenerys led her into a massive solar adorned with gold statues and silk curtains adorning the archways leading out to a terrace with a grand view of the city. She saw two handmaidens leave an adjoining room. Their names were Irri and Jhiqui she recalled. It was her guess they took the children to a nursery room. “These are your chambers? This is beautiful.” Her eyes drifted around the room, admiring it all. “I think I am ready to find my sleep,” she stated before turning to leave and take the room across from her mother.

She was stopped by Jon who grabbed her wrist. “Where are you going?”

“To my room,” she answered. He did not let go of her wrist.

“These are your chambers Visenya,” Daenerys replied.

“I don’t understand,” she stated. _Were there chambers greater than this one in the manse?_

“They are our chambers, if you will still have me. If you still love me,” Jon answered as his warm, calloused hand slid up her arm to her cheek. She felt herself blush and her heart skip a beat. His words jolted her awake. “You will be my Queen, along with Daenerys.”

This was all she ever wanted but now that her dream had finally come true, she felt disappointment seep through her veins. She knew what she had to do. She had a duty as a Princess of House Targaryen and couldn’t let her personal hopes get in the way. “Jon, this is all I ever wanted but you will need to take back the Iron Throne. You will need allies. I will do my part. The best way to secure alliances is through marriage.”

“Nonsense, you will not marry some lord who has already sworn fealty to our house. Senya, you are meant to be a Queen as I am,” Daenerys assured her.

Looking back into Jon’s dark grey eyes, she found his gaze piercing. “You think I would use you as a pawn, sister? No, you will marry whomever you may choose. I chose my wife. I will not choose your husband. If you still feel as you did when we left Winterfell, be my Queen. I will love you until the end of our days. I will never betray you or dishonor you,” he promised.

Her lips trembled as she tried to find the words. Without giving her a chance to accept, Jon leaned down and lifted her chin ever so slightly so he could take her lips. She felt like a stupid maid as Jon’s tongue traced along her lips, seeking entrance to her mouth. Doing what felt right, she let him in and the kiss did not seem long enough. Visenya had never even kissed a boy before, hoping Jon would be the first.

It all seemed like it was over before it began and she worried she had disappointed him. As her eyes opened, she found a smile on his face and wanted more as his brow rested against hers while his thumb caressed her cheek. When she stared down at his full lips, Visenya wanted more. She heard Daenerys walk away and she worried that she had changed her mind. “Where are you going?” she asked.

“To go see my children. Your first time with Jon should be just the two of you, trust me,” Daenerys assured her.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to…,” she tried to get out.

“It’s alright Visenya, I will come in later,” Daenerys said before leaving the room.

The moment she turned to face Jon again their lips were crashing and she felt her tongue brush against his own. In the midst of their kiss, she realized she needed to slow down. Jon was taking his time and savoring the moment while she was getting ahead of herself. When Jon broke away, he directed his affections to open mouth kissing along her jawline to her neck.

As Jon sucked on her pulse, she knew it would leave a mark and it made her even happier as she let out a soft moan. When she did so, Jon proceeded to remove her travelling cape, tossing it to the floor. Next, she felt his hands around her back undoing her sleeveless shirt that was soon on the ground as well. Her heart began to flutter again when she saw Jon staring at her breasts with lust. Slowly, he lifted a hand to one breast, kneading her nipple until it turned into a hard pebble.

While his hand played with one breast, he then took the other into his mouth. She couldn’t help but arch her back as he made her wet for him. Moments later after lavishing attention upon both breasts, she heard the distinct pop of his mouth leaving her breast. After, his lips left a trail down to her waist before she felt his hands trail down the sides of her legs. He was quick to remove her boots and she attempted to speed up the removal of her breeches, but he was too quick. Unlacing her riding breeches, she watched as he carefully pulled her breeches down to her ankles. Slowly, she stepped out of the clothes and focused on his attentions to her exposed legs.

Jon mimicked his actions from earlier and started to kiss his way up her leg until he reached her inner thighs near her wet cunt. The way he took his time and built up her anticipation had her dripping for him as her folds were burning with heat. For a moment, he stared at her small clothes until he slowly dipped his fingers underneath them and tore them off her in an instant. “Gods, you are so wet for me,” she heard him say.

Not even realizing it earlier, she found herself against the wall as Jon began lapping his tongue against her wet folds. This was far better than she ever imagined all the times she pleasured herself alone in her room at the Red Keep. Jon seemed possessed by her cunt and moved his tongue to play with her clit. As he circled her clit and sucked on it, she failed to stifle her screams of pleasure. She lost herself as her back arched with her head hitting the stone wall behind her. As one leg went over Jon’s shoulder so he could get greater access, she moved one hand through his raven curls as the other kneaded one of her nipples.

Visenya was seeing stars under her hooded eyelids as she moaned and whimpered as Jon’s tongue and lips made her clit throb with pleasure. She felt herself going over the edge as her legs buckled underneath her as her fist clinched his curls. Her nerves exploded and she let out louder screams. “Oh Jon, yes, yes, right there, don’t stop,” she whimpered in Valyrian. Without thinking, she reverted to her mother tongue when Jon pleasured her. When she found her release, her toes curled and she lost the strength to stand on her own feet. She was thankful Jon held her up against the wall as his large hands caressed her ass.

She thought he would escape her cunt for air, but her Valyrian words and screams only seemed to make him thirst for more. There was no time to recover. He lapped her folds again, taking in her juices, and sent his tongue over her bundle of nerves. This time, he added his fingers to his efforts and slipped his digits into her core. “Umm, you are so tight and wet for me,” he said as she felt his warm breath against her mound. As his fingers went to work, she knew instantly he had plenty of experience with Daenerys. Jon knew the right where to send her over the edge again and her walls quickly clinched around his digits.

Visenya lost track of time and could not say how long Jon had used his mouth to find her release. She wished it could go on forever, but then she found herself wanting him to be inside her. Before he could dive into her soaking folds again, she pulled his hair back so he would look up into her eyes. “I want you inside me. I want to see you,” she spoke in Valyrian.

“As my queen commands,” he answered and scooped her up with his hands on her ass, taking her over to the bed. _Our bed._ Laying her on her back at the edge of the very large bed covered in silk sheets, Visenya spread her legs for Jon and moved her fingers down through her silver curls to her glistening folds. She rubbed her clit as she watched Jon remove his clothes. It filled her with pride when she saw her actions seemed to stir something deep within Jon because he began to remove his clothes as fast as he could.

Finally bare for her, Visenya could not take her eyes off his long, thick cock that she always tried to imagine these past few years. As she admired his beautifully sculpted muscles and his hard cock, she found herself pleasuring herself more as she began to pant. Almost losing herself, Jon reached down to lift her arm and pinned it over her head as he now laid on top of her body. Feeling his member against her stomach, she thrust her hips upwards, seeking friction.

Jon was quick to reciprocate and spread her legs further before guiding his cock into her dripping cunt. First, he guided his member across her folds, soaking the tip before gently entering her. In the beginning, he was slow with his thrusts as he stared into her eyes. _He loves me. I know that look, because it is how he looks at Dany._ At first, his length inside her was too much and there was pain. Doing her best to ignore it, his slow movements and gentle care lasted for some time. Eventually, her cunt seemed to adjust to his presence and she felt the pleasure her sister always told her of.

Knowing Jon was trying to ease her through this, Visenya decided to move things along. “Jon, please, faster. Please go faster,” she softly spoke in her mother tongue. He nodded and leant down to bite her bottom lip before his movements began to quicken. As he went faster, her moans and his name on her lips grew louder. _The whole manse may hear me, but I do not care. I cannot control it._ Jon was filling her to the hilt and hitting the back of her cunt. She was finding her release as her legs wrapped tightly around his own while her hands gripped the silk sheets around her tightly. When her walls clenched around his cock, she saw his passion and it seemed to make him lose himself. His pace was fast and rough, with nothing but the sounds of their hips crashing, her moans, and his occasional growl filling the room. “Jon, oh gods, Jon, there, right there…” she yelled as she felt his member twitch before coating her velvet walls with his hot seed.

When he was spent, he collapsed on top of her and she ran her hand through his hair as his head was buried in the crook of her neck. They laid like that for several minutes with him still buried inside her. As Jon began to stir, his cock hardened inside her again as he moved to look into her eyes. “I love you Visenya. I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did,” he said with his warm breath hitting her swollen lips.

“I did. I love you too my King,” she answered, earning a smile from him. She pulled the back of his neck in for a kiss she made sure to savor until she needed to release him for air. “I am ready to go again if you are.”

Without saying anything, Jon lifted her from her place on the bed into his lap. Visenya reached down to find his smooth cock and guided it into her folds. Slowly, she grinded her hips against his while locking her lips with his. Eventually, she started to set the pace and Jon helped her with his hands on her ass as she began to ride his cock. She rode him until she found her release and lost control of her body. It was then Jon took the lead again and flipped her over on her back. He spilled into her again and she felt like she was thoroughly drained of energy as they laid together drenched in sweat.

They made love one more time with her on her hands and knees as he took her from behind as she screamed uncontrollably into the soft pillows. She wanted to thank the Old Gods for his talents when he was thrusting into her while using his digits the pleasure her nub. _How did Daenerys not wake the entire Red Keep when he did this? I am not sure I will have that self-control._ After filling her with more of his seed, she collapsed onto the bed. When Jon fell and laid on his back, Visenya rolled over with an arm and a leg placed over him. She was afraid to let him go now that she finally had him.

Visenya laid like that with her head resting on Jon’s shoulder for several minutes in blissful silence, until she heard a door creak open and feet hitting the floor. She looked up to see Daenerys walking towards the bed in a white silk shift that she soon discarded. Visenya was surprised to find Daenerys just as beautiful as she always was. Visenya could not even tell Daenerys gave birth to children several moons ago.

Daenerys slid herself into the sheets on the other side of Jon and captured his lips. Visenya began to sit up, wondering what to say. “So how will this work? Will you share the same bed with both of us? Or will we have separate chambers like Rhaenys and Visenya?” she asked, hoping she would not have to take turns sharing Jon.

“I am never sleeping in a bed without my husband. I would not expect you to spend a night without him either,” Daenerys answered before pulling Visenya up so they were both face to face on either side of Jon on their knees. Visenya did not know what to do when Daenerys leaned in to kiss her. _I cannot believe it, but this feels right._ Soon, she felt Daenerys fondling her breast while she bit Daenerys’ lower lip uncontrollably.

“Seven hells…,” Jon murmured beneath them as she felt a hand glide across the skin of her thigh before resting on her ass. “You two are driving me mad.”

Daenerys let out a small laugh and flipped her over onto her back, sucking on her neck. It was then she heard Jon move and instantly felt him enter her. Visenya felt overwhelmed with pleasure and emotion as Jon thrust into her folds while Daenerys lavished her breasts. Before this night, she was a maid. Now she was making love to her King and his other Queen. _Others will think us mad and sinful, but I know in my heart the three of us were meant for each other. Curse the seven and their piety. We are dragons and dragons answer to no gods or men._

After finishing inside her again, Visenya panted and tried to find her breath as she laid there watching Jon make love to Daenerys before falling back over between the two. Basking in the smell and feel of damp sheets from their lovemaking, she began to hope and dream of bearing his children. She wanted to give him a son and daughter as Daenerys had.

 

Rays of sunshine coming through the room stirred Visenya from her sleep. She hadn’t slept so well since they had fled King’s Landing. Her eyes opened to find Jon staring at her with his grey eyes she loved so much. Her hair was a mess and Jon brushed a strand from her face. His affections caused her to pull herself closer to his side, coincidently rubbing her cunt against his hip, trying to relieve some of her tension. “Good morning love,” he softly spoke.

“Where is Dany?” she asked after seeing her side of the bed empty.

“With the children, she will be back soon,” Jon answered. Visenya left a peck on his lips before pulling away at the sound of Daenerys walking towards the bed. She was still naked as her first nameday. The sight made her think back on the previous night and how they explored her body.

“Your hair looks a mess,” Daenerys stated as she crawled over to Jon. “Jhiqui will make sure to braid your hair after we have a warm bath.”

“What do you think about getting married today?” Jon asked abruptly.

“No, not here. I want to marry you before the Old Gods under a weirwood tree. At Winterfell with our family there,” she answered from the heart.

“I do not know when we will return to Winterfell. What if you have our children before then, I don’t want them to…” Jon said before Daenerys spoke up.

“Jon, you are the King and Visenya is a Queen. Your children will not be bastards, we will declare them legitimate at birth. Its not like the Seven Kingdoms would exactly recognize a wedding in Qarth anyways,” Daenerys said. _Thank you for understanding. I want a wedding in a place that means something to me._ “Now, where were we? Oh, yes,” Daenerys declared once she took hold his member, stroking it slowly before circling her tongue around its tip.

Jon fell back into pillows, cursing in Valyrian as Daenerys expertly went down on him. Feeling a bit of jealousy that she had not done it herself, Visenya moved in and tapped Daenerys on the shoulder. She seemed to understand and let Visenya take Jon into her mouth. Using her tongue as best she could, she tried to remember all the advice she had received on the proper techniques from her sister and Arianne Martell. Swirling her tongue around the tip of his cock as Daenerys had, she began to take him deep into her mouth. She knew she was pleasing him when she felt is hand run through her hair before his hips thrust upwards. After a few minutes, she released his cock with a pop and began to stroke it with her small hands.

Noticing he was about to cum, she took him in her mouth again and relished his salty taste as he spilled his seed into her mouth. It would be an acquired taste but she savored it all the same when she lifted her head before swallowing.

“Here, let me taste our husband on your lips,” Daenerys said before her tongue parted Visenya’s lips, tasting what remained of the seed in her mouth. _Seven hells! If anyone knew what all we have done…_

“Gods, you both need to leave to your baths before I take the both of you all over these chambers,” Jon pleaded with lust in his eyes. It made her wet, but she knew he was right for they had meetings they needed to attend to this morning. _Maybe I am a swooning, stupid girl, but I feel like the luckiest woman in the world. There isn’t a better man in this world than Jon._

“Come,” Daenerys said as she pulled Visenya up from the bed, “Let us find our bath.” Daenerys held her hand, leading them both naked across the room to the corridor with their chambers past several adjoining rooms. They finally walked into an open room with a great view of the city and a steaming bath that was carved from marble and appeared to be able to fit ten people. Already waiting for them were two Dothraki handmaidens, Irri and Jhiqui if she recalled.

All of a sudden, Visenya felt modesty overcome her again and did not like being nude in front of these women. Daenerys pulled her forward and they walked up the steps into the bath. “Jhiqui, see to it Visenya’s hair is washed and braided like my own. She is your Khaleesi now as am I,” Daenerys directed the beautiful handmaiden.

Visenya let her head rest against the edge of the stone bath behind her as she relaxed in the steaming water. She and Daenerys rested like that for some time before allowing the handmaidens to help wash and prepare them for the day.

 

 

**Lyanna Stark**

Waking up alone was a terrible feeling that she believed she would never get used to. She woke this morning to several handmaidens escorting her to a warm bath that was a pleasant surprise. Now she had just found out, Ashara and Allyria were given the same treatment. It was almost as if they were back in the Red Keep. _But this isn’t home._

After eating a breakfast that included eggs, bacon, and various breads, they were led to a room she had not seen the day before, when they arrived. It appeared to be an office Jon had made his own. Standing at the head of the table was her son, who was now a King. _I am unsure if I will ever get used to him carrying such a title. Aegon was expected to be their King._ At both his sides stood Daenerys and Visenya. She noted how close Visenya stood to his left, with her hand brushing his that rested on the table.

She knew that glow painted on her daughter’s face and knew she was a maid no longer. Lyanna was happy for Visenya, but soon pushed the thought to the side, knowing what that meant. Laid out on the table before them was a map of Westeros. Ser Jorah stood at the side of the table, closest to Daenerys. Ser Barristan stood across from Mormont with Arthur at his side. Lyanna walked up and took the place next to Ser Jorah. Ashara and Allyria followed her in. Two of her son’s most trusted Dothraki warriors also came in and stood at the end of the table closest to the door.

“Shall we begin?” Daenerys asked which earned a nod from the Kingsguard.

“Ser Barristan, start with our strength at Dragonstone, what do our forces currently look like?” Jon asked.

“Your Grace, we currently have near ten thousand men at arms on Dragonstone defending the island. The Royal Fleet was untouched and numbers some five hundred ships. House Velaryon has another three hundred ships. Thirty ships are obviously here with us and another thirty with Princess Rhaenys. So that leaves seven hundred and forty ships in the Blackwater. Most of the Houses in the Crownlands have declared for you. Bar Emmon, Buckwell, Celtigar, Rykker, Massey, and Thorne have all declared for you. Rosby and Stokeworth have taken up with the Lannisters. Hayford sent word they would declare for you but they would serve Joffrey until you return.”

“It is understandable. Hayford is not in a position to resist on their own,” Jon declared. Lyanna knew her son was correct. Hayford Castle was along the Kingsroad and did not have the necessary defenses to withstand a siege from an army sent by Tywin Lannister.

“Rosby and Stokeworth are cowards. I am not surprised,” Daenerys stated while focusing on the Crownlands. “I am sure when we gain the upper hand, they will switch sides again.”

“My King, last we heard, Gregor Clegane had been riding through the Riverlands, setting towns ablaze,” Ser Arthur pointed out. “All the Riverlords have declared for you. Lord Darry sent word to Jonothor that Lord Tully’s bannermen had been scattered by Tywin’s force of thirty thousand that was near the Crossroads. Your cousin Robb brought twenty thousand Northmen past the neck and through the Twins. We heard Walder Frey exacted a price for the passing. Robb will marry one of his daughters when the time comes.” Jon scowled hearing of Walder Frey’s lack of honor as a bannermen to House Tully.

“Twenty thousand men crossed the Neck?” Jon asked earning a nod from Arthur. “I guess Robb did not wait to gather a full army. He likely left the mountain clans behind and other men to defend each keep. What of Jaime Lannister’s forces?”

“Defeated and broken at Whispering Wood. After that, it is likely Lord Stark marched on Riverrun nearby to alleviate the siege and rally the Riverlords back to his side. We believe Tywin still commands near forty-five thousand men,” Barristan stated.

“What of the Vale?” Daenerys asked.

“Lysa Tully is keeping her knights in the Vale. She is fearful of the Lannisters and holds no goodwill towards our family,” Lyanna answered with rage. Lysa was a repulsive woman who was an even worse mother. _That boy is sickly and will grow to be a weak lord if he is lucky._

“What of the Greyjoys, should we worry about them siding with Tywin?” her daughter asked.

“Theon remains a ward to House Stark. That should ensure neutrality from the Iron Islands my Princess,” Ser Barristan answered.

“She is not a Princess, Ser Barristan. She is your Queen,” Daenerys informed the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.

“Apologies, your Grace,” the old knight replied, bowing his head.

“You’ve read the histories of every house more than all of us Visenya, you know Balon Greyjoy will do as he pleases. Theon hasn’t been on Pyke since he was a small boy. They may remain on those shit islands or they may begin raiding the coast, but there is nothing we can do about it,” Jon said with his hand motioning along the Sunset Sea on the map.

“Stannis Baratheon has declared for House Targaryen, but we do not think he will wait for you to return. Ser Davos Seaworth was gathering ships for his cause. Renly declared himself King with the backing of House Tyrell. He has most of the Stormlords with him. It is likely his host will number one hundred thousand strong. I fear Lord Stannis will be defeated before we can return,” Ser Barristan continued.

“I beg to disagree Ser. Renly can have all the men he likes but the only thing he knows how to organize is a feast and dance. Stannis will make quick work of him despite the overwhelming numbers. Are we sure Gendry is dead?” her son asked.

“Missing, your Grace. But it is likely he is dead. Several of the Stormlords have declared for you. House Selmy is waiting for your return, even if Stannis will not,” Barristan answered.

“When Renly is defeated, the question will be which side the Tyrell’s choose,” her son stated.

“Olenna wants Margaery to be the Queen. If it is not with Renly, they will side with Joffrey,” she warned them, knowing the Queen of Roses all too well.

“So, it appears we will only have the North, Riverlands, and most of the Crownlands at our side when we return to Dragonstone. The Stormlords will potentially be divided unless Stannis is victorious. What of Dorne? Surely Rhaenys will bring the Dornish to our side,” Daenerys said with hope in her voice.

“Do not trust Prince Doran. He may seem weak in that chair of his, but he is as cunning and power hungry as Tywin Lannister or Olenna Tyrell. And he holds a special hatred for me and anyone with Stark blood. He will not help you sit the Iron Throne my children,” Lyanna informed her children who looked disappointed to say the least. It stung Lyanna to know the Martells held such contempt for her family when she first wed Rhaegar, but learned not to care as the years passed by. Now that contempt would stand in the way of the survival of her family.

“Our sister will not betray us,” her daughter assured them. “She will come to us.”

“Doran may not support you, but Arianne and Oberyn would. They would not let Aegon or Lewyn’s murderers go unpunished,” Ashara spoke up.

Allyria followed up on her mother’s thoughts, “House Dayne will stand with House Targaryen. My uncle could rally the Houses in the Red Mountains to your cause.”

“By the time we return, Robb and the Tullys could be defeated by Tywin. And we will not know until we reach Dragonstone where the Stormlords and Reach Lords will stand, along with Dorne. If we send word to Jon Arryn’s nephew and Lord Royce, I think we can steal the Knights of the Vale from Lysa Arryn’s grasp. Houses Tarly and perhaps Hightower could side with us as well if certain promises are made. And even if we manage to get all of Dorne on our side, I will never underestimate Tywin Lannister. We need more men,” her son said as he looked at the map as if it would provide him the answer.

“What of your Dothraki?” she asked. When her son shook his head, she did not understand. “I thought they number over one hundred thousand warriors?”

“They do, but we do not have the ships or time to ferry them across the Narrow Sea,” Jon answered.

“I may have a solution,” Ser Jorah spoke up next to her. With everyone looking to him, he continued, “Sail for Astapor. There, you purchase the Unsullied. They are a slave army, but you will not find better or more disciplined soldiers. They know no fear and fighting is all they know.”

“Slaves? You would have us buy slaves?” Daenerys asked in disbelief.

“In order to claim what is rightfully yours, yes. You can free them before or after. Either way, you need more men my Queen and you will not find a better army that will follow your orders without question,” Jorah replied. She didn’t like it but Lyanna knew the man was right.

“Leave us,” Jon ordered. “I will discuss this with my Queens before a decision is made.”

Lyanna followed everyone out of the room, hoping her son would know the right decision to make. He was no doubt a skilled fighter, but still had to prove himself as a King and commander in battle against a foe such as Tywin Lannister. All her thoughts regarding the war disappeared when she saw her grandchildren in the handmaidens’ arms in the grand solar. She walked quickly to them and decided she would focus on little Rhaegar and Arya for the day.

 

 

**Arya Stark**

Arya cursed herself for having hope she would reach Winterfell with the Night’s Watch recruits. Now she was being held as a prisoner, marching with the Lannister soldiers down the road twisting through the woods. They had made their way up the Kingsroad to Castle Darry before the knights and men at arms fell upon them. Yoren killed several, but quickly died since he lacked armor. Now they were headed south, but she did not know where.

Whoever they were looking for, they apparently killed him in the ambush on their small caravan. Arya felt lucky none of the men recognized her or Gendry, even with her short hair. In their short time together, they befriended the fat boy named Hot Pie. They still hadn’t told Hot Pie their true names for it was too dangerous. Gendry decided to go by the name Edric while she stuck with Ary.

It was still morning and the skies were filled with dark grey clouds. The grass and the leaves on the trees were still wet from the rain that fell overnight. She could smell it in the air. As she walked behind the wagon trudging through the muddy road, she heard hooves beating down the ground ahead of them and saw some thirty armored riders riding past them.

Minutes later, the smell of rain was replaced with a much fouler smell. Arya recognized the sounds of a castle and saw their destination once they emerged out of the woods. Ahead lay Harrenhal. It was unmistakable with its large walls and tall towers that looked like twisted, molten candles. She had read so much about this place and now that she was finally here, she hated it. _I have fallen prisoner to the Lannisters, whether they know it or not._

“What kind of fire can melt stone?” Hot Pie asked. _Dragonfire you idiot._

“Dragonfire,” Gendry told him as he brushed past them towards the open gate that was heavily guarded.

“What is that smell?” Hot Pie asked, trying to keep up with them.

“Dead people,” Arya answered. The smell was horrid and she tried her best to ignore it.

Within the castle walls, she found the place filled with Lannister soldiers and bannermen. Before getting a good look at her surroundings, their guards guided them to the area holding all the other prisoners. Her attention turned to the screams from a man being tortured. Her eyes found the Mountain overseeing the torture of what looked to be some farmer. _I hope he is as dumb as he looks. If he recognizes my face or Gendry’s, we are dead or worse._

She tried to listen to the questions they asked the poor farmer but only heard bits and pieces of their questions. _Something about a brotherhood and banners and the Trident. I have to get out of here. I need to get home. Back to Winterfell. I need to escape somehow. Find Robb. Or perhaps sail across the Narrow Sea to Pentos and find Jon and Dany. No one will look for me there._

When the sun set and night fell, Arya did her best to stay warm and dry underneath a stone archway. It was cold and wet. Unable to get warm, she tried to ignore the conditions and set her mind to other things. _I hope Allyria and Ashara made it out of King’s Landing safely. I heard someone on the Kingsroad say Visenya and her aunt escaped to Dragonstone. I hope I see her again one day. A sister who loved and accepted me for who I am. I pray Robb defeats the Lannisters and I get to see him, Bran, and Rickon again. Even Sansa. I would do anything to be with her right now. Jon will come back. He will get revenge. And I will get revenge against those on my list._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was a big chapter for the story. Jon/Dany/Senya is officially a thing. I know things moved quickly with them and I got carried away with the morning after scene, but its how I envisioned the story. Some readers will be disappointed it wasn't Jon or Dany POV when they learned of the news but you will see their thoughts of it throughout the story. Next chapter, on to Astapor.
> 
> Again, leave comments for questions and tell me what you think.


	15. Dracarys

**Daenerys Targaryen**  

If she was being honest, Daenerys did not care for Astapor. The city was ugly with its simple square structures built with sand-colored stones that baked under the sun. if the walled city did not lie upon the sea, she would not have a good thing to say about it. While exploring the city the day they arrived, she found several large manses, but they did not compare to their own in Qarth. Nothing here compared to Qarth. 

Worse than the buildings themselves were the people. The slavers who ruled this city called themselves the Good Masters but there was nothing good about them. Daenerys still couldn’t get the picture out of her head of the slaves burning under the sun, starving and thirsty, and nailed to posts for all to see as a warning to other slaves who think about disobeying. They must have passed twenty along the wall that stood along the shoreline. She and Visenya gave water to them, but some refused. 

The small pyramids deep in the city seemed pleasant but she knew they were built with the blood and sweat of slaves. And now they followed Ser Jorah to meet a man named Kraznys who was selling Unsullied slave soldiers. Ahead of them stood a simple square stone building with a giant gold Harpy statue above its roof. The structure was at a corner along the wall by the sea.

Lyanna and Ashara stayed behind with her children and the direwolves at the ships docked in the harbor. All of their men stayed behind to guard the fifty ships they sailed on from Qarth. They made sure to hide their dragons below deck from watchful eyes and those who would do them harm.

Visenya wore grey breeches, simple heeled boots, a red sleeveless tunic, and a thin red cape over her shoulders that was needed to protect her delicate skin while under this sun. Daenerys wore almost identical clothing, except hers was a light blue. In between them stood Jon in grey riding breeches, simple worn boots he always wore, and a red tunic that allowed him to breathe. Following behind them was Allyria in a thin purple dress from Qarth that complimented her dark violet eyes.

Just ahead of them marched their Kingsguard who were alert and ready to strike down any potential assassins who meant them harm. Standing in front of the building with the giant Harpy stood a bald man in typical Astapori attire with a girl with brown skin and curly black hair. Daenerys immediately understood she was a slave. This girl, was no girl however. She looked to be a woman, her own age.

Their Kingsguard stepped aside so they could face the Good Master who would introduce himself. Instead, she realized the woman was there to translate for them. “The Unsullied have stood here for a day and a night without food or water,” the woman translated the man’s bastard Valyrian to the common tongue as they followed them through the structure to a small fortification that stood apart from the wall.

“They will stand until they drop, such is their obedience,” she continued as they walked through a formation of soldiers clad in black leather armor and light helms, holding spears and circular shields.

“Tell me of their training,” Jon requested.

In Valyrian, the slave informed the master Jon wished to know of their training but did not compliment them in order to keep the price down. The master responded, ordering her to tell them what they needed to know. _I like this one. She is smart. I’ll be sure to include her as part of the deal and set her free._

“They train from dawn to dusk, everyday until they have mastered the short sword, the shield, and the three spears. Only one boy in four survives this vigorous training. Their discipline and loyalty are absolute. They fear nothing,” the translator began to echo Kraznys.

“Even the bravest of men fear death,” Ser Jorah replied. When the master heard the translation, he told the slave Jorah smelled of piss. Daenerys played her part and acted as if she did not understand as Kraznys scolded the woman when she asked if she should tell Jorah he smelled of piss.

“The Unsullied are not men. They do not feel pain,” the slave translated before Daenerys heard Kraznys call Jon a perfumed king and herself and Visenya ignorant whores. _He does not know Jon, and we are no whores. He will regret this insult._ The slaver moved down the steps they had just climbed and ordered a soldier to step forward.

As Kraznys drew a knife, Daenerys tried to stop him. “There is no need to…,” she spoke up as he cut the soldier’s nipple off. Kraznys said the Unsullied did not need nipples and surprisingly, the soldier thanked him for the honor of serving him.

“In order to earn his shield, an Unsullied must go to the slave market with a silver coin, find a newborn, and kill it before its mother’s eyes,” the slave translated. _I cannot believe what I am hearing. How many newborns have been killed to create these soldiers?_ “That way, there is no weakness in an Unsullied.”

“You would have them take a newborn from its mother’s arms, kill it, and pay her for her troubles?” Visenya asked with a hint of anger.

The translator informed Kraznys that Visenya felt offended and he explained that the coin went to the slave’s master, not the mother. He managed to call Visenya a fool as well.

“How many?” Jon asked.

After translating, Kraznys lifted ten fingers and the translator informed them that ten thousand were ready to be sold.

“Tell the Westerosi whores and their fool for a king they have until tomorrow,” Kraznys spoke in his bastard Valyrian. The translator was smart to add there were many buyers ready to purchase them.

 

Later that night, after checking on her children and feeding their dragons and wolves, Daenerys was finally in her room on the ship discarding her clothes. Jon was taking his clothes off as well while Visenya already laid across the bed with her legs open, eager to end the day with passionate sex. Just as she managed to remove her small clothes, Jon had already pounced on Senya and was worshipping her perfect breasts. Not wanting to be left out, Daenerys stood atop and pushed Jon away so she could ride Visenya’s face while he thrust into Visenya’s soaking cunt.

Their lovemaking was shorter than usual this night at Jon’s urging because he insisted they needed to discuss how they would acquire the Unsullied. “So, what do you think?” he asked as he ran his hands down both of their sides, to their hips, and eventually their asses.

“I will not stand by and let this city continue to enslave the innocent and murder babes,” Daenerys said with the purest form of conviction. She knew it in her heart that this was wrong and not how the world needed to be. _How can I avert my eyes when I have the power to change things?_

“I agree, we should take the city and slay the masters,” Visenya supported her.

“You are both right. We will take the city. It will delay us however,” Jon added.

“This isn’t the only slaver city. There is Yunkai and Meereen and others. We have the power to free thousands of slaves, perhaps near one million. I know it will sound mad, but I think we should take Slaver’s Bay and rule it until we have abolished slavery and have a clear picture of who all we must fight in Westeros,” Daenerys said.

“And leave Robb to fight Tywin on his own? Let the Riverlands be torn apart piece by piece?” Jon asked incredulously.

“I don’t like it anymore than you do, but we can send a message to Robb. Tell him to march back North and wait for our return. Let the Riverlords know we approve of them temporarily bending the knee to Joffrey,” she tried to reason with him.

“It is a dangerous move,” Jon said with a pained look on his face. “Even if we take back what is ours, what kind of King will people think me?”

“They will know you for what you are. A good King who fights his own battles and sees that justice is done in his lands. We already have people we must rule, here in Essos. Pentos, Norvos, Qohor, the Dothraki Sea, Qarth. The three of us rule them all and we cannot just sail for Westeros, abandoning them,” she reassured him.

“Dany is right. We shouldn’t rush our return to Westeros. How can we rule the Seven Kingdoms if we do not secure our rule over the people already under our protection?” Visenya added.

“It is decided then, on the morrow, we make the agreement to purchase the Unsullied and in two days’ time, we take the city,” Jon declared before moving down to her cunt to continue where they left off before.

 

“We will buy them all,” she spoke in the common tongue to Kraznys and the other master seated in the shade above them on a stone platform.

“This cunt thinks she can’t flash her tits and get whatever she wants,” Kraznys laughed, speaking bastard Valyrian.

“There are ten thousand Unsullied in Astapor. Is this what you mean by all?” the translator questioned.

“Yes, and we will have all the boys still in training,” Daenerys responded. This seemed to earn the displeasure of the other master once he heard what she had said. He mentioned not wanting the half-trained boys to bring shame upon Astapor. The translator questioned them about buying half-trained Unsullied.

“We will need them to help the wounded, carry supplies, and replace the dead,” Daenerys informed the masters.

As Kraznys called them dumb whores for thinking they could afford all the Unsullied, the translator informed them, “Good Master Kraznys says you cannot afford this with all of the gold you brought. It will only get you five thousand Unsullied unless you plan to sell some of your ships and Dothraki.” Kraznys then mentioned he liked the curve of her ass. _He will burn first._ “So, he asks, how do you plan on paying for this?”

“We have dragons,” she answered which seemed to light a fire under the masters.

“My Queen, my King. You will need the dragons to take back your throne,” Ser Barristan spoke up in a nervous voice.

“Please, my Queen…,” Ser Jorah pleaded before she gave him a look letting him know he overstepped. Jon did the same to Ser Barristan. _They are right of course. But we need their reactions to be pure to keep up this mummer’s farce._

“Three,” Kraznys spoke in the common tongue.

“One,” Jon replied.

“Two,” Kraznys negotiated.

“One,” Jon held firm.

Kraznys turned to the other master, discussing the terms for a brief moment. “They want the largest one,” the translator informed them.

“Done,” Daenerys answered which Kraznys mimicked to confirm she meant what she said. “And I’ll have you as well. You will be Master Kraznys’ gift to us as a bargain well struck.” The woman was shocked and relayed the message to Kraznys who was all to eager to accept. _He thinks he will get a dragon. A dragon is not a slave._

As soon as they left the masters presence, she could feel Barristan and Jorah ready to voice their displeasure. “Your graces, Aegon Targaryen conquered the Seven Kingdoms with Westeros. He proved how invaluable they are,” Barristan declared while Arthur remain silent.

“A dragon is worth more than any army,” Jorah added.

She turned around with Jon and Visenya. She was ready to unleash her anger upon them. Jon beat her to it. “I respect your counsel, but if either of you disagree with us in front of strangers again, you will need to find another King to serve,” Jon scolded them.

As they walked back to their ships with their newly acquired translator following herself and Visenya, she slowed to walk next to her. “Do you have a name?”

“This one’s name is Missandei your Grace,” she answered.

“Do you have a family to return to if you could?” Daenerys asked.

“No, your Grace,” Missandei replied.

“You belong to us now, understand? You will be truthful and answer any questions we may have,” she said.

“I understand your Grace,” Missandei confirmed.

“Good, now is it true once we have the Unsullied, they will follow any command?” Visenya asked.

“They will follow any order you give. Should you command them to fall on their sword, they will do as told,” Missandei said.

“And what about you? We are going to war. You may go hungry. You may become sick. Or perhaps you may be killed,” Daenerys asked.

“Valar Morghulis,” Missandei answered.

“Yes, all men must die. But we are not men,” she told Missandei.

 

 

**Jon Targaryen**

Jon hoped their instincts were right and this would not turn into a colossal failure. The square before them was filled with all ten thousand Unsullied in perfect formation and standing as still as stone. The boys training to become Unsullied could be seen lined up against the buildings at the furthest end of the square.

_The Astapori train fearsome soldiers but they lack an army of their own. It will be their undoing._ Walking into the square, Jon looked around and found few armed men to guard the masters present. Before leaving their ship, he ordered Arthur to stick close to his wives and protect them no matter what. They also made sure to tell their household guard and Dothraki to remain alert and protect their ships. _I hope Allyria sees our signal in time and follows through with our request._

When they were close to Kraznys, he began speaking in bastard Valyrian and Missandei translated his words, “The master says they are untested. He says it would be wise to blood them early. There are many small cities between here and Westeros. Many cities ripe for sacking. He says they will purchase any slaves you may capture and who knows? In ten years, you could buy some of them as Unsullied.”

The small cart being pulled by a mule finally came to a halt and two of their Dothraki lifted the cage covered with black cloth to carry it over to Daenerys. When she unlatched the bindings on the cage, he heard Drogon’s screams and the dragon slowly crawled out with a chain around his neck. Once he was free, he flapped his wings and took to the air, but remained close as Daenerys held his chain. Jon walked forward at Daenerys’ side as they stepped towards Kraznys. He looked in awe of the dragon as Daenerys handed him the chain. In return, Kraznys handed Jon the whip with a sculpted Harpy on its handle.

“Is it done then?” Daenerys asked and Missandei translated.

“It is done. The bitch has her army,” Kraznys replied while Missandei refrained from translating all he said.

Jon looked at the whip for a brief moment before turning to walk towards their Unsullied. When he looked over at Daenerys, he could tell Drogon’s cries for her hurt, even though it would not last. _The time for this farce is over._ “Unsullied!” he yelled in Valyrian, bringing the soldiers to attention. “Forward march!” and so they did. “Halt!” The Unsullied did as he commanded.

Behind him he saw Kraznys struggle to hold Drogon in place as the dragon screeched into the sky. “Tell the bitch her beast won’t come,” Kraznys yelled.

“A dragon is not a slave,” Daenerys responded in High Valyrian. Jon was amused at the shocked face the master held. Missandei and Ser Jorah were surprised as well. They rarely spoke their mother tongue in front of anyone that was not family.

“You speak Valyrian?” Kraznys asked.

“I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen of the blood of Old Valyria. Valyrian is my mother tongue,” she stated with pride. If it weren’t for the situation at hand, Jon felt like he was ready to pick her up and take her back to their chambers and fuck her all night.

“Unsullied! Slay the masters. Slay the soldiers. Slay every man who holds a whip, but harm no child. Strike the chains off every slave you see. Do not attack the soldiers and Dothraki at the harbor,” Jon yelled to the soldiers. At his command, Unsullied began cutting down the masters in a highly organized fashion. His attention was pulled to Kraznys again when he heard the man screaming orders to his guards to kill them over and over.

Daenerys stared him down and simply said, “Dracarys!” Her command was enough for Drogon to understand and he unleashed his fire upon Kraznys who flailed for a second before collapsing lifelessly to the ground.

The square was now in a bit of chaos and Jon saw Arthur protecting Visenya who looked less than pleased without her sword. _At least I was able to convince her not to bring it. A Queen with a sword? The masters would have suspected something was amiss._ When his eyes left Senya, he saw Drogon fly along the wall, burning dozens of Astapori guards. The guards who managed to avoid his flames fled, only to be struck down by their Unsullied.

One of their Dothraki brought him a horse and he jumped onto it. Riding out of the square, he followed the Unsullied as they poured into the streets. Many people were put to the sword or spear as he rode past, but not as many as he predicted. The city had far more slaves and free people than actual masters. When he got close to the pyramids in the central part of the city, his attention went to the sky as he heard their dragons flying overhead, letting the entire city know that House Targaryen now ruled Astapor.

Jon only used Longclaw twice in the two hours it took to take the city. The two masters he cut down near the pyramids were fleeing the Unsullied and he made sure to cut them down. He felt rather useless, but concluded that was a good thing for he did not wish for a slaughter or a struggle with those who did not hold a whip. _I detested Kraznys, but the man was not wrong about the Unsullied. These are fine soldiers with complete discipline and exceptional skill._

After clearing out the largest pyramid, Jon ordered all the Unsullied back to the great square where the fighting began. Riding at the head of the Unsullied with Ser Barristan who joined him in the midst of the fighting, he was happy to find Daenerys and Visenya waiting for them with their dragons and direwolves. His mother and the Daynes had joined as well. Their household guard lined the walls and the Dothraki rode through the streets on patrol as they had on their previous conquests.

Visenya and Daenerys saddled two white mares and rode over to him. “Are you both safe? Did we lose anyone?”

“I don’t believe so,” Visenya responded. She looked around at the Unsullied in amazement, just as he had earlier.

Soon, they had all gathered back into their formations, ready to receive orders. He rode through their ranks and began to speak, “Unsullied! You have been slaves all your lives. Today you are free!”

“Any man who wishes to leave may leave, and no harm will come to him,” Visenya followed him, yelling to the soldiers in Valyrian. “We give you our word.”

Daenerys yelled next, “Will you fight for us? As free men?” They waited in silence for a brief moment until one Unsullied hit his spear against the ground. Then another and another before all ten thousand clattered their spears against the ground, ready to fight for them. _They are slaves no more._ Jon no longer needed the whip and threw it to the ground.

Visenya and Daenerys rode their mares through the Unsullied ranks to his side once the men filtered out of the square on their orders. Jon ordered most of them to take up quarters in the pyramids they had taken from the masters with their Targaryen household guard and Dothraki warriors. The others were to take up positions around the city to ensure order in the streets so the city would not fall into chaos.

“Ser Jorah,” Jon called for the knight who approached in battle-worn armor. “See to it all the gold we find is loaded onto our ships. I want the ships ready to set sail with the gold within two days. They will be taking it to Dragonstone.” Ser Jorah bowed and left to oversee his task.

“Ser Barristan, we will not be sailing back to Westeros. Our place is here, in Slaver’s Bay for now. We have decided we will not return until the dragons are grown and we are able to ferry the Dothraki across the Narrow Sea. The Seven Kingdoms are in chaos and we cannot be sure we will win at this time,” Daenerys informed the Lord Commander of their Kingsgaurd. “See to it the largest pyramid is safe and secure. We will reside there for now.”

“Your Graces,” Ser Barristan said and rode forth towards the pyramids of Astapor.

Hearing a dragon scream overhead, Jon saw Vermithrex flying above the city walls that were still smoking from the dragonfire unleashed by Drogon hours earlier. He smiled at the dragons flying over Astapor and began to wonder what they could do when they are fully grown. _Drogon is just one small dragon and he did this. Twelve large dragons should defeat any army this world has to offer._

 

 

**Robb Stark**

“Any word from your mother my lord?” Roose Bolton asked as they stood around a large map of the Riverlands. A wooden direwolf figurine stood on the map where they currently camped, two days ride south of Riverrun.

“No, we have received no ravens,” he answered as he focused on the area surrounding Harrenhal.

“We should strike now. Tywin Lannister is still gathering forces near Harrenhal and is not yet at full strength,” Lord Rickard Karstark suggested. _That is what he wants. The moment we march, his scouts will know, and he will call his nearby forces to trap us._

“Stafford Lannister is gathering a host near the Crag. Our scouts say they number some three thousand now and their number grows,” Lady Maege Mormont added.

“Boys and old men from Lannisport. We shouldn’t worry about them. I can lead the vanguard and march on Lord Tywin and show him how northmen fight,” Greatjon Umber boasted. _Lord Umber is strong and fearless. I am glad to call him my bannerman but he is no tactician._

“Lord Tywin wants us to attack him now. The men he commands are well provisioned and outnumber us. They are scattered now, but if we march against him, they will concentrate their forces. He wants to defeat us quickly so he can move onto the Baratheons. We must delay until we have received word from my mother on any alliance there is to be had with Lord Renly,” Robb addressed his bannermen.

“King Renly now,” Robin Flint of Widow’s Watch sarcastically replied earning laughter from all the men in the great tent. _Nobody takes Renly seriously, but we need his men._

“Tywin has not moved north because he is waiting. We will take advantage and move against Stafford Lannister. I will ride out tonight with five thousand men and give the boys and old men of Lannisport a northern welcome,” Robb said which earned several “ayes” from his lords. “And if the Crag is a ruin like they say it is, we will take it. While I am gone, Lord Brynden Tully is in charge. You are all dismissed.”

When the men began to filter out of the tent, Robb eyed the Blackfish, and let him know he wished for the man to stay. _Thank the Gods Uncle Edmure decided to remain at Riverrun for the time being._ “You know we will have to meet Tywin in the field at some point in this war,” the tall old man said while taking a seat at the table.

“I know, but I will not fight him on his terms. I am not stupid enough to think I can easily defeat Tywin Lannister,” Robb said before sitting across from the old man. “I wish Joffrey were brave enough to lead his armies against us. That would see a quick end to the war.”

“That day will never come. Any news from the Pyke?” the Blackfish asked, referring to Theon. Robb sent his best friend back to his father, Balon Greyjoy, with the hopes of acquiring his ships, and harassing the western coast.

“Not yet. If we get his father’s ships, the Westerlands will be distracted with attacks on their shores, and Tywin will have another front to fight,” Robb said.

“Your mother was right before she left. You shouldn’t trust a Greyjoy or any man from those shit stained rocks for that matter,” the Blackfish warned him before drinking his cup of ale.

“Theon is like a brother to me. He grew up in Winterfell. My father was more of a father to him than his own,” Robb rejected the notion Theon would betray them.

“That may be true but he is no longer in Winterfell. He will be at Pyke, reunited with his blood. Not surrounded by his captors, no matter how well you treated him,” the Blackfish said. _Theon may not bring his father to our side but he would not betray us._

“With this attack on the Crag, our men will earn an easy victory, and they will still have hope that they can win,” Robb changed the subject. “We just need to avoid heavy losses until the Baratheons enter this war and our King returns. I hope the tales of his Dothraki screamers are true. We will need them.”

“Your cousin will make for a great King, that much I know. But bringing the Dothraki across the Narrow Sea? Even your cousin cannot perform such miracles,” the Blackfish dismissed the idea of securing a large army. _He is probably right. The Dothraki have never crossed any sea and it is said they hate any water their horses cannot drink._ “Will I need to send any of our men with you?”

“No, your men should stay here in the Riverlands. We need your knowledge of the land. I will take men from Houses Mormont, Flint, Umber, and Hornwood against Stafford Lannister,” Robb answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Targaryens have the Unsullied and conquer Astapor. Very close to canon, but next chapter is completely original. Next chapter will be called Four Dragons in Astapor.
> 
> Let me know what you think and ask any questions in comments.


	16. Four Dragons in Astapor

**Rhaenys Targaryen**

When Rhaenys woke this morning and made her routine trip to the deck of her ship, _Meraxes_ , she found the winds were strong and the black sails with her House sigil pushing them through the sea. Her smile quickly faded due to frustration. _Where were these winds earlier on our journey? We should be lucky to reach Qarth before Jon and Daenerys have moved on._

It had been three moons since she departed Dragonstone and last saw her sister. Over a year since she had seen her brother and aunt. And now that she was so close to being with her family again, she was worried she would miss them. _I will never place my faith in House Martell again while my Uncle rules. Robb Stark would raise his banners for me if I asked, but my own blood would not._

Rhaenys wanted to sail for Qarth directly, but Ser Oswell and the captain of the ship dissuaded her from doing so. They reasoned that Jon and Daenerys may have departed Qarth by now and if they were to sail from Qarth, Astapor would be a likely place to port before the long journey to Pentos. She did not like the idea of travelling to Slaver’s Bay, but Ser Oswell mentioned they could purchase an army or pay sellswords in the area to add to their numbers. _I would not purchase a slave army. If I did, I would free them the moment I bought them and would have no army. Just less coin._

It was nearly two hours after sunrise when Rhaenys saw land on the horizon from her place at the ship’s bow. As they got closer, she made out what could only be a city and black smoke rising from within its walls. She turned to her mother standing next to her who held the same worried face she herself carried. _Has Astapor been sacked? Or is it a slave revolt? Either way, we need to turn around and make for Qarth._

“I don’t like the look of this,” her mother worried.

“I am going to tell the captain to turn around. We do not need to be caught up in the troubles of Slaver’s Bay,” Rhaenys promised and turned to walk towards the captain at the stern.

“Wait, my Princess. Look!” Ser Oswell yelled to her from his place next to her mother. Rhaenys saw him pointing ahead to the city and walked back up to the bow. “Black and red sails. Those are your sister’s ships in the harbor.”

“No, there appear to be too many,” her mother said.

Rhaenys began to count the ships in the harbor with sails painted with her House’s sigil. She soon counted more than thirty ships and knew they had already been to Qarth. “Jon and Dany. They found them,” she mumbled but did not think her mother or Oswell heard her.

“We must be careful Princess, we cannot tell who holds the port or the city itself,” Oswell counseled her. _He isn’t wrong. I need to be cautious. We do not have enough men to fight our way through the city. My family better be safe behind those walls._

Rhaenys felt like she was losing her patience and nerves as her small armada made its way to the port of Astapor. Her thoughts tried to play out every possible scenario, good and bad. When they were finally in the port, passing her family’s ships, she saw Targaryen sailors attending to their ships along the docks. She even saw men who set sail with her sister removing the sails from other ships in the port. _They have taken Astapor. Jon and Daenerys must have their Dothraki horde with them._

The moment her ship was tied up, Rhaenys rushed off the gangplank onto the docks with her mother and Ser Oswell in toe. Near the docks was a gate along the walls of the city and she saw a Targaryen banner resting from the parapets above the gate. As she walked down the dock, she concluded Astapor’s climate was closer to Dorne’s than Dragonstone and was happy she wore her dark red Dornish dress that left little to the imagination. _Jon will hate me wearing this and Senya will role her eyes, but at least I can move around without sweating like a pig in this heat._

Now some fifty feet from the gate, Rhaenys saw a captain of her household guard approaching with ten men behind him. She felt sorry for them having to wear their armor under this sun. “Princess Rhaenys, Queen Elia!” the captain addressed them with a bow. “King Jon has taken the city. I am sure you wish to see him at once.”

“Yes captain. It would please us if you took us to him immediately,” her mother informed the man.

“Right away your Grace,” he answered before turning to another soldier, “Go fetch one of wheelhouses at once.” She wished she could just mount a horse and ride through the city at once, but she knew it would not be proper or wise with the dress she had on. It took some time for the wheelhouse to arrive and Rhaenys was thankful to cool off under its cover. There was only room for four people within it and she sat inside with her mother and Oswell.

The ride through the city was slow and long. Parts of the walkways atop the city walls still smoldered and they crossed the occasional pool of blood that stained the streets. There were no bodies and no Dothraki. None that she could find anyways and that was a surprise. All she saw were a few Targaryen soldiers and countless soldiers in simple black armor she did not recognize. _Jon seems to have acquired another army._

All the people they passed in the streets appeared to be poor or slaves. _No, former slaves. If House Targaryen rules Astapor, then there are slaves here no longer._ Rhaenys found the city a bit boring and its architecture uninspiring. Some of the manses they passed held terraces covered with greenery, but everything else was dull and sore on the eyes.

When the wheelhouse came to a halt, she heard their guards announce they had reached their destination. Ser Oswell was first to step outside the wheelhouse, gauging their surroundings before waving them on. Rhaenys stepped out to find themselves in the shadow of a pyramid that must have stood more than one hundred feet in height. The mysterious soldiers she observed all over the city surrounded the pyramid, standing still as statues with their spears pointing to the sky.

Two of these soldiers told her to follow them into the pyramid and she complied. They spoke a form of Valyrian that was a bit different but understandable. Within the pyramid were more soldiers standing guard. Rhaenys disliked the appearance of the city’s buildings from the outside but she was ready to compliment whoever decorated this pyramid’s interior. All of the furniture appeared to be of exotic materials and designs. There were plenty gold sculptures adorning the halls they walked through.

The climb up the pyramid was a bit taxing but nothing to voice a complaint about. Rhaenys concluded they must be near the top considering they were no longer taking any stairs and the surroundings looked fit for someone of tremendous wealth. Their two silent escorts led them down a long hallway that led to a terrace with a view of all of Astapor. The terrace held a pool of water and countless trees, plants, and flowers she did not recognize. Grass covered the entire terrace except for the stone path they followed.

When they passed the pool and a grouping of palm trees, she found her family sitting at a long table under a pavilion covered in vines. In the grass before the pavilion laid all of their direwolves. It reminded her that she had completely forgotten about her own wolf, Shadow, who had followed close behind her since she left the ship. Shadow was hard to ignore in that moment as he let out a howl and ran to his brothers and sisters. The commotion caused by the wolves drew the attention of everyone at the table and she saw her sister running to her.

“Thank the Old Gods you made it,” her sister said after jumping into her arms. “I have worried about you since we left Dragonstone.”

“It is good to see you little sister,” she answered, running her hand along her sister’s arm.

Visenya stepped aside and Rhaenys saw her brother step forward. All her pent-up anger and sadness she tried to contain since sailing for Dorne escaped in the form of a few tears she tried to hold as she herself jumped into Jon’s embrace. She held her little brother close. It pained her to be away from him when she lived in Dorne years ago and this past year felt even worse, especially the past few months. “I’ve missed you brother,” she whispered against his ear.

“I’ve missed you too,” Jon answered as he released her. Jon rested his hands on both her shoulders and looked down into her eyes with the grey eyes that looked so much like Lyanna’s. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for Aegon. I should have been there for our brother and father.”

“It is alright brother. It wasn’t your…,” she tried to respond.

“No, it isn’t. I wasn’t there when he needed me most. I promise you Joffrey, Cersei, Tywin, they will all pay. They stole your future and our family’s throne,” Jon swore with determination.

“I am sorry I failed you. I tried to rally my uncle to your side but he would not listen. He still hates your mother and anyone with Stark blood. I told him you are our rightful King and…,” she tried to explain with a heavy sense of guilt for failing to contribute.

“You have nothing to apologize for sister. You are my sister and I expect nothing from you. It is my duty to lead our house and take back the Seven Kingdoms,” Jon comforted her. “And we will not return to Westeros for some time. There are reasons for which we will explain later.” Jon then moved aside to hug her mother.

“This is Prince Rhaegar,” Daenerys introduced a baby boy with black hair and lilac eyes. “Say hello to your aunt Rhaenys,” she whispered to the baby before handing the child to her. Rhaenys was never one who wanted children in the near future but now that she held the future of her House in her arms, she felt regret at not having a son with Aegon. _It was a mistake. Aegon always wanted children and now I shall never bear him any. I will regret that for the rest of my days._ Rhaenys held out a finger for the babe to hold onto and laughed as the boy’s face filled with joy as he stared into her eyes.

“And this one is Princess Arya,” Lyanna said, drawing her attention to a babe that had her family’s silver hair but Stark eyes. Daenerys took her son out of her arms and Rhaenys took the little Princess in her arms.

“Twins? Seven hells Daenerys, it must have been painful,” she jested which earned a laugh from her aunt. “Just keep this one away from Senya, or she will take after her namesake. She’ll be getting into trouble for years to come.” She regretted bringing up their missing cousin. Everyone laughed but did so with pained smiles.

After doting upon her niece for some time, she handed the girl back to Lyanna. Allyria came forward and hugged her almost as tight as Jon and Visenya. She missed her best friend. “We worried you sailed past us to Qarth. But thank the gods you are here now. I wish you could have seen Qarth. The lands around it were no sight, but Jon and Dany’s manse was a wonder,” Allyria told her with a bright smile.

Ashara Dayne embraced her after Allyria described the grand manse they resided in for a brief time. After, Ashara moved on to discuss their journey with her mother. Rhaenys followed Daenerys to the table behind them that was covered with foods and wine. While eating next to Daenerys who held her son in her arms, Rhaenys noticed her brother standing by the wall overlooking the city. He was talking to Visenya and something seemed different. _They are standing very close and looking at each other differently. Well, at least he is looking at her differently._ Her suspicions were confirmed when she saw him pull Visenya in for a deep kiss.

“So, my sister is Queen now?” she asked Daenerys.

“Yes,” Daenerys answered with a beaming smile that was not faked. Rhaenys was glad for it. The last thing they needed right now was a divided House.

“And how are things during the hour of the wolf?” Rhaenys jested in a hushed voice with a devious face. Daenerys could only blush and laugh at her suggestion. _Gods, my brother would have been the last person I would guess to take two wives._

“I do not like sharing, but I must admit, we find ways to keep it interesting,” Daenerys finally answered after looking to make sure Lyanna was not around to hear such things.

“Well I am just glad my sister is no longer a prude,” Rhaenys said as she examined Visenya’s revealing dress from afar. It was a thin white dress that exposed her skin from her shoulders to the small of her back just above her ass. And the front barely covered her breasts with a v-cut that went just below the breasts. “She no longer looks like a septa or some northern lady trying to keep herself warm.”

Rhaenys asked Daenerys plenty of questions about her children and about the pyramid they currently resided. She learned they had only taken the city the day before and were still working to establish order to the city. _They are doing a good job. There was no violence or looting while I rode through the streets._ Deciding that she wanted more details, Rhaenys stood from the table and made her way over to her siblings.

“It is a beautiful view from up here,” she observed standing next to Jon. “Where are your Dothraki warriors? How did you take the city?”

“We only have a few thousand Dothraki with us. The khalasar remained in the Dothraki Sea. We purchased the Unsullied and turned them on the masters. It was mostly Dany’s idea,” Visenya beamed with pride. “Our kingdom in Essos stretches from Pentos to Norvos to Qohor, across the Dothraki Sea, and through the Red Waste to Qarth. Jon made sure to establish a better city guard in Qarth before we left. A council of thirteen rule the city in our name now. Slaver’s Bay is next to bend the knee.”

“You mean to conquer Slaver’s Bay?” she asked.

“Yes. If you saw how they treated the slaves in this city, you would not sit by and do nothing if you had the means to act. Yunkai and Meereen are next. We need time to acquire more ships to carry our armies to Westeros and these cities will fall if they do not put an end to the slavery,” Jon vowed. She could tell he was set on this course of action. _This is a distraction, but he is the King now._

“Brother, I failed to bring House Martell into the fold and for that, I will never forgive myself,” she said which earned a sympathetic look from her brother and sister. “But I promise you, I will do what I must for our House. If I can secure an alliance with a great lord through marriage, I will.”

Jon placed his hand over her own that rested on the wall just above their waist. “That isn’t necessary Rhaenys. You are my sister and you will marry whoever you wish. You were going to be our Queen. I will not ship you off to some lord you do not love or wish to marry,” her little brother promised. It moved her to know he cared that much for her and would not let her make that sacrifice.

Visenya stepped to Jon’s left and placed a soothing hand along her right arm. “You can still be a Queen,” her sister said.

“I don’t understand,” she answered. _I do not want to marry some foreign King, sister._

“Marry Jon. Daenerys and I were meant to be his wives. You were born to be a queen. Why should that change now? You can be his wife as well,” Visenya told her enthusiastically.

“Is this what you want?” she asked Jon. She never looked at him as anything more than her youngest brother. She reacquainted herself with his features and could not deny he was handsome to say the least. He looks almost completely different to Aegon, but in some ways you can tell they are brothers. _Will I be betraying Aegon and his memory if I marry Jon? What lord in the Seven Kingdoms would serve as a better husband than Jon? Robb Stark or Willas Tyrell? No. They are good men, but no._

“We discussed it on the ship from Qarth and Visenya reminded us that you deserve to be a Queen. It is your decision, but I promise to love you as much as I do Daenerys and Visenya. You will have an equal say in all of our decisions. I will not be like other kings and ignore the counsel of my Queens,” Jon promised her. She struggled to find the words and could only stare into his grey eyes. “Take all of the time you need to decide.”

Rhaenys tried to think of her alternatives and what would be best for her family. Her mind searched for various lords she could marry and bring to their side despite what her brother said. But then, she started to listen to her heart. _I will find no better husband. I haven’t loved him as a wife, but I can. I will. I will give him the sons and daughters he deserves. The children I should have given Aegon. When I held Rhaegar and Arya in my arms, I felt something close to a mother’s love. What will I feel for a babe of my own?_

She wanted to accept his proposal of marriage but stopped when she saw a flock of large birds approaching them from the periphery. Rhaenys turned her gaze from Jon to the creatures flying across the clear blue sky. _No, those aren’t birds. No, it can’t be._ Then she heard them scream and fill the air with their singing. “I don’t understand…This isn’t possible…” she spoke with a shaky voice. The dragons were flying faster across the sky than any bird she had ever seen. And just as quick as they crossed the sky, they came to a halt above them with their wings spread. Six of them landed beside them, perched along the wall. They were about the size of dogs and she figured their wing span was around six feet. Visenya ran her hands over a slightly larger one with silver scales.

“This one is Silverclaw,” her sister claimed. Visenya treated the beast like it was some harmless dog or horse. _But then again, Shadow is fearsome and does not scare me. Why should a dragon? I am a dragon._

“They were born in Vaes Dothrak. They are partially why all the Dothraki now follow us. We have already claimed nine of them. We left three for you,” Jon informed her. He proceeded to point at three of the dragons sitting in the grass near the pavilion. “Those over there. We have not named them, but I am sure you will know what to call them.”

“Will they allow me to approach them?” she asked, staring at them in awe.

“Of course, sister. You are the blood of Old Valyria,” Visenya assured her with more confidence than she had ever heard from her sister. _Being a Queen has changed her._

Rhaenys approached the creatures who bared their sharp teeth at first. She knew she needed to show her courage and kept walking towards them until she knelt before them. Without thinking, she brushed her hand over the snout of the larger of the three that possessed crimson scales. _I will ride this dragon one day and I will be its rider until the end of my days._ It seemed the other two got jealous of her attentions and she did her best to calm them.

Jon and Visenya began to tell her of all the other dragons’ names. To her surprise, Shadow came up and laid on the ground next to her with no fear of the dragons. As she gave the crimson dragon more attention again, she decided on a name. “You shall be Myrax,” she declared. It would be a slight change to the name Meraxes, the famous dragon her ancestor rode. “And you will be called Moonlight,” Rhaenys said to the purple scaled dragon. “And what about you?” she asked, looking at the orange-scaled dragon. “Kios, that is it. When winter comes, you shall bring us hope for the Spring to come.”

She could not tell, but it seemed like Rhaenys spent hours with the dragons. Daenerys told her she needed to form a bond with the dragons in order to control them. Apparently her three were the wildest of the lot and they were starting to worry what they would do before she arrived. They were beautiful beasts and Rhaenys promised herself she would find time everyday to show the dragons she loved them.

In her time with her dragons, Jon left to see to the needs of Astapor with Daenerys. Visenya told her they had taken the city’s small fleet and were working to organize a city guard made up of freed slaves. All the masters in the city were dead and their property and riches had been confiscated. Most of the gold and riches they acquired would be sent to Dragonstone, but a necessary amount would be kept in Astapor to pay the city guards until taxes could be collected again. Visenya said they had mountains of gold from Qarth ready to be sent to their grandmother for safekeeping. Another issue Jon and Daenerys went to solve was that of the city’s governance after they leave in a few months. Her sister said they were likely to form a council similar to Qarth’s with freed slaves of their choosing.

When supper was served to them, Rhaenys sat next to Allyria and spent most of the time talking with her about what all she had seen in Qarth and Astapor. Her entire family surrounded the table along with a woman named Missandei who served as their translator. She seemed to be close to Daenerys along with her three handmaidens who were present. Ser Jorah Mormont and their three Kingsguard were also present along with two Dothraki men.

Jon stood with Daenerys and Visenya looking out at the city under the night sky after the meal was over. Rhaenys decided she would inform them of her decision now while her mother, Ashara, and Lyanna obsessed over the twins. “If you would excuse me Allyria, I need to speak with my brother,” she told her friend who nodded.

All three of them turned to her when she reached them. “I have made my decision. I want to be your wife and Queen,” she informed them which put a smile on their faces. “That is, if each of you are fully behind this.”

“We are,” Jon said confidently. Rhaenys saw that he was not taking his eyes off of her. She thought she would have to make the first move, but was pleasantly surprised when Jon placed his hand at the small of her back and pulled her in for a passionate kiss she tried to savor. She felt his technique was different to Aegon’s but she would adjust. Where Aegon was more aggressive, Jon was calming and took his time. “Will you stay in our chambers tonight or will you have your own? I do not want to rush you into this.”

“I want to stay in your chambers tonight,” she answered. She did not expect it because the memory of her love still filled her thoughts but she could not deny her desire for Jon. His tongue on her lips and in her mouth seemed to awaken something inside her. She found her folds were wet with desire and she tried to move her legs together to ease her tension. “When will we marry?”

“Whenever you wish,” Jon answered. “Visenya and I have not actually held a ceremony yet. She made me promise to wait until we could marry before a weirwood. Any children we have until then will be legitimized. If you wish, we can marry on the morrow or wait until we return to King’s Landing and marry at the Sept of Baelor.”

“Have I ever been a worshipper of the Faith, brother? No, I will wait as well. If Daenerys and Visenya marry you before the Old Gods, I will not be the one to be left out,” she decided. Daenerys and Visenya started to walk away, towards the archway leading to the inside of the pyramid. _Where are they going? Did I say something wrong?_ “Where are you going?” she finally asked.

Turning around, Visenya answered, “I had Jon all to myself the first time. We thought you should as well.” They both continued on their path from the terrace.

“So, shall we retire to our chambers?” Jon asked with his hands now on her hips. _He isn’t one for words nor a poet. But then again, I am glad for it. He wouldn’t be Jon if he was._

“Yes, my King,” she replied, standing on her toes to reach his full lips. When she retreated from his lips for air, she locked her arm in his as he escorted her to their chambers. It was a short walk to their chambers. Along the way they passed several Unsullied guarding the halls and Shadow was standing outside the doors to their room next to Ghost.

Jon opened the two doors and Rhaenys walked into a large solar that led out to another terrace with a pool that looked large enough to swim in. It reminded her of the Water Gardens. As she took in the surroundings, she finally saw Jon motion for her to follow him down the corridor to their left. On the other side of the solar laid the bedchambers which held the same great view of the city. The chambers were completely open to the outside air and Rhaenys loved it because she could awake to a cool morning breeze. She stepped out onto the terrace to take in the view and felt Jon stir behind her.

 

 

**Jon Targaryen**

He could do nothing but stare in awe at her beauty. A little over a year ago, he was ready to join the Night’s Watch and swear to never take a wife. Now he was married to the three most beautiful women in this world and was the father to two children. He married the girl he loved as long as he could remember and now took his two sisters for his queens. _Most of the world will look down on such arrangements, but I do not care._

All day, he wondered what his older sister would decide. Rhaenys expected to marry Aegon for years and he was stolen from her. It wasn’t fair nor right. They deserved to spend the rest of their lives together as King and Queen. Jon hoped to do right by her and prayed his brother would approve. _I will give her the world and protect her with my life as I will Daenerys and Visenya._

Rhaenys stood with both her arms spread onto the wall at the edge of the terrace, taking in the sight of a sleeping city. Everything about her was perfect in his mind, just like his other two wives, but in her own way. Rhaenys’ skin was darker than his, a trait she inherited from Elia. Her hair was a dark brown that could appear black at times. It was smooth as silk, just like her skin. Her eyes were a dark violet that showed her Valyrian heritage. She had long beautiful legs and stood taller than Visenya who was a few inches taller than Daenerys. Her breasts were large and hard to miss, even when she tried to hide them. And under her current dress, Jon could tell he would fall in love with her ass.

Slowly, he dared to walk behind her and placed his hands around her hips. Her Dornish dress left little to the imagination and was driving him mad. Gently, he crooked his neck to place a kiss on the side of hers. He took his time and took in her smell. Jon always knew she kept the best perfumes and smelled like a goddess. This night was no different. As he left a trail from her neck to her right shoulder, he heard her moan, and that made him lust for her even more.

He worried he rushed it, but lost control as he edged a hand to her shoulder to slide the thin silk off. She did not protest and she slid the silk off the other shoulder, causing her dress to fall and pool at her feet. His heart skipped a beat and he felt his cock trying its best to get out of his breeches. It was a struggle to take his eyes off her ass that he could only describe as perfection. Involuntarily, his hands fell to it and kneaded her cheeks. Rhaenys moaned again and he decided to remove his light shirt.

Rhaenys turned around and her breasts were in perfect view from the braziers lit behind them. Before he could reach for her breasts and give them their proper attention, Rhaenys stepped forward to capture his lips. Her breasts rested against his chest while he felt her hands work on the laces of his pants. Quickly, he removed his boots before Rhaenys yanked his breeches down. He kicked them away and pulled her flush against him with his lips on hers and his cock poking into her stomach.

Doing his best to make this night perfect for her, Jon savored their kiss and slowly eased his way from her lips, down her neck, and to her breasts. With a hand kneading one and the other in his mouth, he couldn’t believe how perfect they were. When his teeth grazed her already hard nipple, Rhaenys moaned and ran her nails through his scalp. Releasing the breast with a pop, he switched to the other. If he was being honest, he could just focus on her breasts all night.

As he pulled away from her breasts, he looked to her beautiful folds that glistened under the light. _Gods, she is so wet for me._ Just as he moved to lap up her juices and get a taste of her, she lifted his chin with her soft hands. “Take me to bed,” she commanded.

“As you command my Queen,” he responded and placed his hands on her ass to lift her into the air. Her legs were wrapped around his back with her hands on his neck. He could feel her wet cunt against his abdomen. He carried her back inside to gently lay her upon the silk sheets of their bed.

Her legs were already open for him and he took time to kiss her inner thighs before reaching his intended destination. When he was finally upon her cunt, he ran his tongue along the edge of her folds, hoping to tease her. Rhaenys’ legs tightened around his head, but he reacted instantly and spread them wider than they were before. Knowing he needed to move this along, he focused his attention on her nub and circled it with his tongue. “Oh fuck, Jon, Jon,” Rhaenys moaned. _One thing that is different, she does not revert to High Valyrian when she is pleasured like Dany and Senya._ “Yes, right there,” she continued in High Valyrian as if she could read his thoughts. Now that she was ready to come undone, he started to flick his tongue in rapid succession against her nub.

His efforts were rewarded as she screamed his name and continued to voice her pleasure in their mother tongue as she came. Feeling her body shudder uncontrollably, Jon lapped up her juices and moved his tongue into her folds to get his fill. He loved the tart taste and what his tongue did to his wives. _I hope Rhaenys will not be disappointed._

The hand she had been running through his loose hair now pulled him up from her cunt. “Get inside me now!” she ordered with a seductive voice he had never heard come from her before. Not hesitating for a moment, he took his cock and slowly ran it through her folds to coat the tip in her juices before finally moving his hips into her. Slowly, he moved his member until he was fully sheathed in her hot cunt and hit her walls. At a steady rate, he accelerated his pace and knew he could be less gentle with Rhaenys than his first time with either Daenerys or Visenya. _They were maids but Rhaenys is not. She is ready and knows what she wants._

Before he knew it, he was pounding into Rhaenys at a furious pace and their bodies seemed perfectly in sync. Every time he hit the back of her cunt, Rhaenys dug her nails into his back and screamed his name. He knew he was close and prayed to the gods that he could outlast her. “Faster brother, faster…,” she panted as the words nearly failed on her lips. _Shit, I am going to spill soon._ Suddenly, he followed his instincts from plenty of experience with Daenerys and took his hand out of her hair and began to play with her clit as his other hand kneaded a breast.

His efforts were worth it as Rhaenys bunched the sheets in both her fists and he saw her body shudder with her legs shaking and pulling him in closer. Her walls squeezed his cock and he tried to thrust into her even faster if it was possible. “Rhaenys, oh gods, you are so…,” he couldn’t finish as his cock responded to her warm cunt and spilled ropes of his seed onto her walls. As he came, he briefly lost control of his thrusts, but recovered to keep pounding into her until he was sure he was spent for the moment.

Moments after giving her his seed, he fell into her embrace with his face in her breasts and her hand moving through his hair. He was thoroughly exhausted and realized they were both drenched in sweat from their lovemaking. Gathering his strength, Jon moved his weight off Rhaenys and flipped them both over so she was on top. Her face hovered over his own and he found himself lost in her dark, beautiful eyes. _What is it about women with amethyst eyes taking my heart?_

As he ran his hand through her silky-smooth hair, he captured her swollen lips and ran his other hand down her back to her ass. “That was amazing,” she softly said. “Do you want to have me from behind?” _Seven hells!_

“Yes,” he answered truthfully. Rhaenys smiled and moved off him to get on her hands and knees. He took the moment to admire her ass and she began to move it seductively in the air. Taking that as a message to get to it, Jon moved down to kiss each cheek before slapping both with affection. Right after, he slammed his hips into her ass and sheathed his length into her cunt.

He was moving into her as fast as he could with his hands moving back and forth from her hips and ass. A minute into his thrusting, he moved a hand into her hair as her back arched to give him greater access while her face screamed into the pillows. She reached her peak again and Jon lost concentration. Doing so resulted in his cock slipping out and he rushed to slip back into her. He made the mistake of not taking his time and accidently entered her ass which brought her loudest scream. He pulled out immediately and apologized, “I am so sorry Rhaenys. I didn’t mean to…” _I’ve ruined this._

“No, don’t stop, keep going. I like it,” she panted nearly out of breath. Jon paused, unsure if he understood her until she reached back to grab his cock and guided it to her rosebud. He was slow to enter her there without Essosi oils at hand. Her juices coating his cock should be enough in his mind. As soon as he entered her, he set a far slower pace and did not last long. Her ass was tight and he quickly spilled into her. The sight and feel of his cock in her ass with her sobbing with pleasure broke his will to last.

When he finished, he withdrew from the bed to the water basin nearby to quickly wash off. Once he was done, he felt Rhaenys wrap her arms around his stomach and kiss his shoulder. “I hope I did not disappoint,” he said.

“No, you did not. Daenerys does not lie. That tongue of yours performs miracles,” she assured him before moving around to soak a cloth to wash herself off.

“No, allow me,” he stopped her and took the cloth from her hand. He slowly washed her thighs and around her core while placing soft kisses on her hip and ass. “Gods, you are so beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she replied. He then scooped her off the floor in his arms and carried her to their bed. They needed rest after their exertions and she was flush against his side. After a few minutes, she spoke up. “Jon, I want to give you children. I told Aegon I wanted to wait, but I do not want to wait now. I will take advantage of the time we have now. I want to give you a dozen children. Little princes and princesses to run around the Red Keep, giving us trouble.”

All he could do was laugh which earned an angry look from her. “What is so funny?” she asked.

“It is just what you said. Daenerys promised long ago to given me a dozen children while we were at Summerhall. Visenya told me she wanted a dozen children. And now you as well. I have married three Alysanne’s,” he jested. He was happy to see her laugh. “Don’t worry, if you want that many children, I will do my best to give them to you.”

As they laid together in the bed, Jon didn’t have anything else to say. All he could do was stare upon Rhaenys’ beautiful form as he lightly traced his hand across her body, resisting the urge to take her again. Her eyes were a mystery to him. Sometimes he thought he saw guilt and in the next moment would see love. He did not know which. _Aegon still has her love._

It may have been a poor decision considering their current state, but he was about to broach the subject of their brother until he heard footsteps coming from the corridor. Rolling over, he saw Daenerys and Visenya walk in, each wearing a chemise that failed to hide their figure. Jon attempted to get up to help them undress but he was beaten to the task. Both of his wives pulled their chemise off and crawled across their bed to join them.

“We could hear you from across the solar,” Daenerys said lightheartedly before crawling over him to taste his lips.

“I couldn’t help it. It appears you have made Jon into a fine lover,” Rhaenys answered as Visenya cuddled up to his side, leaving a peck on his lips.

“So, are you both too exhausted for further, shall we say activities tonight?” Visenya asked. Jon was unable to open his mouth when Rhaenys slid from his side over his torso and pounced on Visenya. He lost his breath as he watched both of them seal their lips together and whimper as they got a taste for each other. “Are you going to join us, or just sit there and watch?” Visenya asked before Rhaenys was attacking her again. _She is timid to the world, but not in our bed._

As he was about to line himself up to their cunts and take turns filling them both, Daenerys pushed him out of the way. She took the initiative and began to feast on both of their folds. He knew she did this so he would take her first, not that he would complain. On her knees with her ass in the air, Jon gently slid his cock into her cunt and set a steady pace as his hands squeezed her ass. Soon enough, all his wives were letting their pleasure be known and their moans made him speed up his thrusts into Daenerys. Knowing she was near her peak, he slid an arm around her front to play with her clit. He was proud that his efforts worked and Daenerys stopped lapping his sisters’ beautiful, wet cunts.

Sobbing in Valyrian, Daenerys let them know she was coming undone and Jon was going as fast as he could. She nearly collapsed as her legs gave out and her walls seized his member. Moments after, he coated her walls with his seed and pulled out, nearly out of breath. His heart beat hard in his chest as he watched Rhaenys move down and spread Visenya’s legs.

Rhaenys finished her work with Visenya who ran her hands through Rhaenys’ hair the entire time. Knowing he needed to serve her needs, he called her over. “Senya, I need to be inside you now,” he panted. Visenya stood on the bed with a smile on her face. Her silver hair was now a mess with several strands sticking to her sweat covered brow. Standing over him, she kneeled down, and adjusted her stance. She then guided his cock into her cunt and began to slowly circle her hips on his.

Rhaenys then moved onto his face and he dove his tongue into her petals, struggling for air. He could feel Daenerys had positioned herself on his stomach between Visenya and Rhaenys. “Yes, yes, Jon, right there,” he heard Visenya whimper in Valyrian as she started to ride his member. Her voice and the sounds of their skin colliding filled the room.

Their room smelled of sex and Jon discovered he would need to learn how to pleasure his three wives. In this moment, he felt overwhelmed. Satisfying Daenerys and Visenya was hard enough, and now he had Rhaenys. If he was being honest, Daenerys was a handful in bed and tired him every time. Those thoughts were pushed to the side as he felt Rhaenys go limp on his face while his hand had moved to Daenerys’ nub. All three were reaching their climax on top of him and Visenya recovered to ride him more, knowing he had not cum yet.

Daenerys pulled Rhaenys off him and laid on top of her. Visenya was bouncing on his cock but he could tell she was exhausted and he decided to take charge. Jon moved up to face her and flipped her onto her back. Her face said it all. _She loves it when I take charge and get aggressive._ Amethyst eyes were locked with his own and he set a rampant pace. Nonsensical words came out of her mouth and the face he loved so much showed her climax. Not knowing if he had anything left to give her, he finally gave her his seed.

He fell on top of her with his face in her breasts. His wives were perfect and he laid there on Visenya hoping she would carry a child inside of her soon. He also wished the same for Rhaenys. Worrying his weight was crushing Visenya, he moved off her. She was quick to attach herself to his side. Daenerys moved up against his right side. Rhaenys moved on top of him, with her face resting on the middle of his chest.

Jon could stay like this forever with all three close to him, seeking each other’s warmth. _Many will say I have taken all three out of sinful lust, but I truly do love them. It was something I never expected, but here I am nonetheless._

“Jon…,” Daenerys mumbled. He tilted his head to look into her eyes. He could hear the seriousness in her voice. “I am pregnant again.”

“That is great news,” he joyously responded. “Hopefully you won’t have to carry two this time. I know how taxing it was on you.”

“No, I want twins again. It was worth it to have our two bundles of joy,” Daenerys said.

“I am happy for you both,” Rhaenys said.

“I am as well,” Visenya followed up. “I hope Rhaenys and I do not have to wait long.”

Jon did not stay awake much longer as he felt Rhaenys fall asleep first, shortly before Daenerys. As his eyes grew heavy, Jon imagined what their lives could look like. _Three mothers with countless children running around Dragonstone and Summerhall._ That was his hope, but Jon knew all too well nothing was assured, even with dragons. The most powerful man in Westeros was their enemy and they were sure to build more enemies in Essos. His father taught him long ago that one could still lose a war without losing any battles. His father, uncle Ned, and Arthur Dayne also taught him the battlefield can be chaotic and even the greatest warrior can be killed by the weakest of foes.

 

 

**Willas Tyrell**

“Now that your oaf of a father is gone, let us speak freely,” his grandmother spoke. _Does she ever hold her tongue? She isn’t wrong, but still._

“My brother’s stupidity has put us in a precarious position. His love for Renly blinded him and father’s desperation to see Margaery be a Queen allowed this to happen,” Willas spoke as he walked to the window overlooking the open fields surrounding Highgarden.

“What did the raven say about Renly’s death?” his grandmother asked.

“Some say it was Catelyn Stark. Others say it was Brienne of Tarth. Some said they both did it. But Loras has the right of it. Stannis had Renly killed,” Willas answered. He tried to picture Renly wearing a crown and could only shake his head at the idea. He could win over the support of loyal men, but he knew nothing of ruling or leading men to war. “At least my brother wasn’t fool enough to stay there and fight.”

“It will be up to you and me to see our House through this disaster,” Olenna informed him.

“And how do we go about doing that? On one side we have Stannis and Robb Stark fighting for the Targaryens and on the other we have Tywin Lannister. Loras put us on the wrong side of both parties,” Willas said before turning back around to face his grandmother who sat at a small circle table with a single glass of Arbor gold.

“Who do you think will win? Robb Stark and Stannis Baratheon? Or Tywin Lannister?” she asked.

“Tywin Lannister,” he said with a bit of dread. If Jon Targaryen were to return, he would side with him. But they have not heard any news of the missing King.

“Yes. And we will do what we must to placate him. And it is a good thing we have plenty to offer,” she said.

“Loras will be happy to side with the Lannisters to get revenge for Renly. If we send men to fight for them against Stannis, we will be taking up arms against House Targaryen,” he warned her. _If the rumors are true of Jon Targaryen having a Dothraki horde, it would not be wise to side with his enemies._

“That is where Margaery will do her part. Robb Stark is unmarried,” she stated. _Yes, he is promised to a Frey girl._ “Yes, we will give the Lannisters food and soldiers for the time being, but Margaery will wed Robb Stark. When the Targaryens return, the King will not punish the family of his cousin’s Lady. From what I have heard from your sister, Jon Targaryen was close to Robb Stark. If we are smart, we can use that to our advantage.”

“And what of Tywin Lannister. He will not look kindly on us playing both sides,” he told his grandmother what she already knew.

“He can look at us any way he pleases. At this moment, he needs us. And if he defeats the Targaryens and Starks, Margaery will have a son born to her who will inherit Winterfell. We can betroth the child to some Lannister in years to come. Or we could just seek a betrothal between your sister and Joffrey now,” she lectured him.

“No, you are right,” he responded. “The Targaryens have more gold than anyone, they have a strong navy, and several great houses behind them. The few times I met Prince Jon, he was quiet but honorable. I will not bet against him.”

“It’s settled then. When Loras and Margaery return, we will inform them of this plot. Where were they when they sent the raven?”

“Ashford,” he replied.

“Good, they will be here soon. In the meantime, I will make sure your father goes along with this. He will need to think this was his idea,” his grandmother declared before getting up to leave the room.

Willas shifted back to the view of the green fields below, praying that they could untangle themselves from the mess they created. His brother and father were stupid enough to pick the weakest side. He resolved that he would do everything he could to see his family keep their hold on the Reach and not meet an end as the Gardeners did three hundred years ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there it is, Jon/Rhaenys is a thing. There will not be anymore queens. This is it. And Jon/Rhaenys will be a messy relationship at first. Combination of her mourning, his guilt for having his brother's queen, & them rushing into this. It went by fast bc I wanted to move things along and this is ASOIAF, not modern day where people wait. 
> 
> Here is a list of the dragons if you are struggling to remember:  
> Drogon (black), Rhaegal (Green), Viserion (gold)  
> Vermithrex (dark grey), Sonar/winter (bronze), Stormfyre (Black some grey)  
> Silverclaw (Silver), Darkskye (dark blue), Vyraxes(flame red)  
> Myrax (crimson), Moonlight (purple), Kios/spring (orange)


	17. Sellswords & Yunkai

**Daenerys Targaryen**

Her patience was beginning to wear thin as they waited for the leaders of the Second Sons to come treat with them. The company of sellswords did not seem like much. Jon said their Unsullied and soldiers from Westeros would easily defeat them. _But why spill any blood when we can avoid a battle altogether?_ Another company of sellswords named the Stormcrows had already come to their side at the promise of gold. As long as they did their part, they would be paid. Daenerys would never trust them however. They were too quick to leave their former employers.

It was midway through the year and they were already at another city. The ride from Astapor to Yunkai was long and unpleasant. They marched through a desert and were careful to ensure they had the necessary amounts of water to keep their army alive. On the road, they had called forth the captains of the Unsullied and asked them to choose a leader amongst their ranks. All chose a man named Grey Worm that was hesitant to voice his own opinion, but was slowly learning he had a say on their council. Daenerys was proud of her decision to instruct Missandei to teach Grey Worm the common tongue.

Missandei had grown to be a close advisor to Daenerys and Visenya in Astapor. She was a true and honest woman who felt like a friend. She was present at every council meeting along with Grey Worm, Rakharo, Kovarro, Ser Jorah, and their Kingsguard. Allyria also attended their meetings and her opinion was valued. Elia, Lyanna, and Ashara were not always present, but they had a say in things often enough.

Astapor was left to a council of former slaves. They were left with strict instructions and the Unsullied did their best to organize a city guard that would defend the city and keep the peace. Even though almost every master was slain, there were still tensions between the freed slaves and those who never wore chains in their life. Rhaenys had the idea to let every faction know the consequences of any infighting while they were gone. Daenerys agreed and was not subtle with her hints of dragonfire being unleashed on those who did not respect their wishes for how the city was to be ruled.

The Yunkish had sent an emissary to their camp in the hills outside the city the day before. She found their messenger to be disappointing. The Wise Masters, as they called themselves, did not seem wise enough to understand they faced the same end as the Good Masters of Astapor. The man offered them gold and ships to sail back to Westeros. They took the gold, but it meant little to them considering House Targaryen was wealthier than any family in Westeros or Essos. It warmed her heart when Drogon got aggressive in the presence of the emissary when he threatened them.

Before sunset, Ser Jorah led them to a grouping of ruins outside the city that presented a view of the sellsword camp. Ser Arthur suggested they strike at night and Jon agreed with him. Daenerys disagreed and let Jon know it. At night, she discussed their course of action and they came to an agreement that they would try to win over the sellswords.

From her seat at Jon’s side in the large tent at the center of the camp, she could see Ser Barristan escorting three men. Ser Oswell and Arthur stood at the corners of the tent behind them. Grey Worm was present along with their Dothraki. Visenya and Rhaenys were seated on Jon’s left. Their direwolves and dragons were away. _Likely protecting our children._

Barristan introduced the three leaders of the Seconds Sons. He said their names but she did not care to remember them. One of them was young and attractive. It was not someone she would guess to be a sellsword. The man in the center stepped forward once the introductions were finished.

“So, you’re the Mother of Dragons,” the captain of the Second Sons said as his eyes looked her up and down. “I swear I fucked you once in a pleasure house in Lys.” Jon’s hand immediately went to Longclaw, but she grabbed his wrist to stop him from taking the man’s head. She was amused at the man’s boldness; however vulgar it may be.

“Mind your tongue,” Ser Jorah warned the man angrily.

“Why? I don’t mind hers. She licked my ass like she was born to do it,” he answered as he took a seat on the cushions next to her. Flicking his tongue out at her was not so pleasant. “You, slave girl, bring me wine,” he directed Missandei.

“We have no slaves here,” Daenerys answered.

“You’ll all be slaves if I do not save you. Take your clothes off, you and your sister, and come sit on Mero’s lap so I can give you my second sons,” he said. _He thinks me and Visenya are sisters._

“Give us your Second Sons and I won’t have you killed,” Jon threatened him.

“Ser Barristan, how many men fight for the Second Sons?” Visenya asked.

“Two thousand your Grace,” Barristan answered.

“And how many do we have?”, Visenya followed up.

“Sixteen thousand my Queen,” Barristan said.

“We have more,” Visenya declared.

“I hope the old man can fight better than he lies,” the youngest sellsword added. “You have fourteen thousand.”

“How do you plan to defeat us in battle. You are vastly outnumbered?” Jon asked.

“The Second Sons have faced worse odds and won,” the captain replied.

“The Second Sons have faced worse odds and run,” Jorah retorted.

“If we break our contract, no one will pay us again,” the oldest of the sellswords spoke.

“Fight for us and you will never need another contract. You will have more gold than you can spend,” Daenerys promised. _We have mountains of it and sacking Yunkai would net us enough to pay the sellswords into perpetuity._ “You have two days to decide.”

Missandei poured some wine for the sellsword next to her and she noticed him sniff her as she got close to him. “Show me your cunt, I want to see if it is worth fighting for,” the captain said. _He better restrain himself or Jon is going to remove his head._

“Let me kill this man for you my Queen,” Grey Worm requested in Valyrian.

“He is our guest,” Daenerys told Grey Worm, knowing the man would obey her command. Turning to the sellsword, she continued in the common tongue, “You seem to be enjoying our wine. Perhaps you shall want another flagon.”

“And what will my men drink?” he asked.

“I’ll have a barrel sent then,” Daenerys replied.

“Good,” the sellsword captain answered as he got up to leave. “The Titan’s Bastard does not drink alone. In the Second Sons, we share everything. After the battle, perhaps we’ll share you and the other two there.” Daenerys raised her eyebrows in amusement. As the man walked away, he turned to Missandei. “I’ll come looking for you when this is over,” he promised before smacking her ass.

“Ser Barristan, when it comes to battle, see to it that one dies first,” she asked the old knight.

“Gladly your Grace,” Ser Barristan answered.

Once they were gone, Rhaenys sat up and stood in front of them. “If they do not come to our side, what is our plan? We have no siege weapons.”

“No, but our ships have set a blockade around their port. We have the numbers. If the Second Sons choose to fight, we will attack them in the night unless they strike first. Once they are defeated, we can lay siege to the city at night. We’ll find the weakest part of their walls and attack,” Jon stated.

“If there isn’t anymore, I should like to see our children,” Daenerys grabbed Jon’s hand to pull him with her to their tent. He followed without saying a word. Their tent was a hundred feet away and they found Lyanna taking care of the twins. She placed Arya in her arms. As she looked into her daughter’s grey eyes, she wondered what the babes in her stomach would look like. She was showing and knew she held two more babes.

“Did it go as planned?” Lyanna asked.

“They plan to fight,” Jon said looking down at Rhaegar. “I do not know why. They should know enough about war to know they cannot win the battle. I am going to have our guards doubled around the camp tonight. Sneaking into our camp and killing us or causing chaos is the only option they have.”

“If they saw our direwolves, they would think otherwise,” Lyanna said before ducking out of the tent. Rhaenys and Visenya entered soon after in their white flowing dresses that were similar to her own. Every morning, Jon told them how beautiful they were, especially when they were with child. When he first told her those same words over a year ago, she dismissed his words as simple flattery. But now, she agreed. Rhaenys and Visenya were still as beautiful as ever now that they were with child.

“I don’t like this. Why do we need to waste our men on Yunkai? You heard Ser Jorah when we first camped here. The city is well provisioned and has high walls. You yourself said a siege would be difficult,” Rhaenys said as she laid down and rested her head on Jon’s lap.

“Ser Jorah also said there are over two hundred thousand slaves behind those walls. If you saw the walk of punishment in Astapor like we had, you would want to free them as well,” Daenerys tried to persuade her while she let Arya play with her fingers.

“Just promise me you will stay out of the fray. I lost our brother. I will not lose another. Especially now that you are my husband and I carry your child inside me,” Rhaenys nervously spoke. _I cannot blame her for her worries. I felt the same outside Qohor. Rhaenys has lost her love. I cannot imagine losing Jon._

“I promise,” he answered as he ran his fingers through her long, dark brown mane. Daenerys noticed Visenya no longer wore a simple northern braid. She had begun to fashion her hair like herself. Intricate braids for her long hair that she did not plan to cut soon. They led the Dothraki and they had not been defeated yet. Rhaenys now had a similar braid she only began to wear after leaving Astapor.

“What of the other slaver cities? Volantis, New Ghis, Mantarys, Meereen? Will they come to Yunkai’s aid?” Daenerys asked.

“I am not sure. I doubt they have had the time to gather an army to defeat us,” Jon concluded. But he was not sure and did not pretend to know for sure.

If they were to rule Slaver’s Bay, they would need to cleanse it of slavery. And doing so would require eliminating the slavers and all who support them. They had all four discussed it before along the road and Jon above all was wary of the potential bloodshed. He warned them that they had not fought a true war yet. He seemed to echo a conversation she had with Ser Jorah. If they started a war, they would not be able to control all of the blood that would be spilled.

Every war that has ever been fought has seen the innocent and weak murdered. Good and evil could be seen on all sides. These thoughts gave her sleepless nights. But she would always come back to the idea of people in chains. She would not stand by and let the weak be treated like animals.

 

 

**Visenya Targaryen**

Steam was rising from the surface of the water in the tub she sat in. She made sure to thank Doreah and Jhiqui for arranging a hot bath for herself and Daenerys. Across from her sat Daenerys with her eyes closed as Missandei braided her hair. She could see her breasts peaking out of the water and it gave her some ideas, but then she thought better of it. They were Queens and such things were inappropriate. Even in front of Missandei who would never say a word.

For a second, she thought Daenerys read her mind as she felt her toe move along her nether lips before withdrawing as she pursed her lips. She felt aroused again after already spending an hour making love to Jon. He was still tending to Rhaenys, who seemed to hold more energy than they did this night.

Visenya closed her eyes again as she rested a hand on her growing stomach. She prayed to the Old Gods that she would birth a son and daughter to cherish and love. It was all she thought about every night and most of the day in her leisure time.

The sound of Daenerys’ Dothraki pulled her out of her thoughts. Dany made sure to keep up with the language with Missandei and it was beginning to annoy her. Visenya had already spent an hour this morning learning the language from Missandei and it was the last thing she wanted to hear now. _My High Valyrian and Common Tongue is perfect. I will take my time learning a third language._

“Did you see the small goat Darkskye burned today?” she asked Daenerys. The dragons were growing larger and so were their prey. Darkskye had flown into the temporary lair the dragons had built on the edge of camp with a dead goat in its claws. It seemed to stir the rest and they all grew rather vicious towards each other over the food.

“I did. Hard to miss when they are screaming and fighting over it. They are growing faster than I expected. I just hope…,” Daenerys was stopped by the loud growl of Silver from behind. Visenya moved her eyes over Daenerys’ right shoulder and saw a man with a blade to Missandei’s throat.

“Call for help and she dies,” the man said as he removed the rag covering his face. He was the lieutenant from the Second Sons she had seen earlier in the day. Silver ran through the tent right behind him. The man was lucky the direwolves did not catch him earlier.

She instinctively covered her breasts and pulled her knees to her chest. No man had ever seen her naked besides Jon. Daenerys braced herself, nervous for Missandei’s safety. “You were sent here to kill us. Why haven’t you?” Daenerys asked him.

“We had a disagreement,” she heard the man say, which earned a raised eyebrow from Daenerys. “Over your beauty. It was worth more to me than them,” he continued.

“What did they have to say about that?” she asked.

“You should ask them,” he said and she turned around in the tub to see two heads rolled out onto the ground. The sellsword had killed his captains and carried their heads into their camp. “I told them I am Daario Naharis and I always have a choice.”

When she turned back to Daenerys, she saw a smile on her face and watched as she stood in the bath. She carefully stepped out of the water and onto the rugs in their tent. Missandei was waiting for her with robes. _Who does he think he is, staring at her nude? She is a Queen._

“Will you fight for us?” Daenerys asked as she fastened her robes. Daario Naharis nodded. “Swear it.”

“The Second Sons are yours and so is Daario Naharis. My sword is yours. My life is yours. My heart is yours,” the man swore on one knee with his arakh in hand.

“Good,” Daenerys said as she turned to walk away. “And do not presume to walk in on us again. Next time I will let our husband know and even I will not be able to stop him from taking your head.”

When he was gone, Visenya stood from the bath and grabbed a robe from Missandei. _Curse myself. I had no blade or bow with me. We could have been killed._ Visenya marched back to her tent frustrated and angry with herself. After a few minutes, she eventually reasoned that Silver would have killed the sellsword before harm could come to her or her unborn child.

As she passed Ser Oswell and several Unsullied guarding their tent, she immediately discarded her robe to find Jon pulling out of Rhaenys. His pretty cock was still hard and she felt herself get aroused when she saw cum on the tip. Jon moved to the edge of their bed and pulled her towards him. He began to place light kisses on her stomach as his hands massaged her ass.

“Stop it. I just washed for the night,” she pushed his chest, causing him to fall back into the bed. Rhaenys still laid limp and thoroughly exhausted as her breasts heaved up and down. She was out of breath. “Anyways, I have some good news. The Second Sons are ours.”

As soon as she said so, Daenerys walked in and threw her clothes off. She moved over towards Rhaenys and settled under the sheets next to her. “Daario Naharis killed the two captains and swore his sword to our cause. Tomorrow, we can begin to plan our attack on Yunkai.”

“Why didn’t anyone alert me?” Jon inquired.

“Because you were making love to me,” Rhaenys answered in jest. “Do you think Ser Oswell has the nerve to come in and interrupt us.”

“He snuck into camp and dropped the heads of the captains before our feet,” Visenya admitted, while carefully omitting a few details.

“Seven fucking hells,” Jon cursed in anger. “I am going to have words with our men.”

“If you are going to have words with anyone, it should be Daario Naharis. He has obviously spotted a weakness on our perimeter. We should learn from it,” Visenya counseled.

“As you say love,” Jon murmured with his lips attacking one of her breasts. She couldn’t help but let out a soft moan as he softly picked her up and laid her next to Daenerys.

“Stop, I need sleep and I do not need to make my hair a mess again,” Visenya warned him.

 

It had been several hours since Daario Naharis left with Ser Jorah, Grey Worm, and a handful of Unsullied to sneak into Yunkai. They stood around, waiting for news. Daenerys paced back and forth. If they succeeded, a siege would not be necessary.

“How long should it take?” Daenerys asked.

“Who can say?” Ser Arthur replied.

Visenya sat in her seat with her hand running through Silver’s fur. She could sense her direwolf was eager to be out of the desert and back in Westeros. _She will have to wait for some time._ When Westeros crossed her mind, her thoughts turned to her cousins.

_Will Robb defeat the Lannisters? Is Arya alive? What will happen to Sansa?_ It depressed her that they could do nothing for them. They could set sail and join the war. But they could not ensure victory. _Not yet anyways. Our dragons need to grow and we need more ships to bring our Dothraki._

She began to think of Winterfell and what Bran and Rickon were doing. She thought of Old Nan, Maester Luwin, Ser Rodric, and Hodor. Visenya tried to imagine what the castle looked like right now. The more her thoughts dwelled on the North, she thought of her Uncle Aemon and prayed she could see him again before he passes. _He is so old and does not deserve to die up there, in the cold. He should have been a King and instead, he joined the Watch._

Jon jerked his head towards the opening to their tent and she followed his eyes to find Ser Jorah and Grey Worm approaching. They were covered in blood and sweat from fighting. “My King. My Queens. The slave soldiers threw down their weapons. The city is yours,” Ser Jorah announced.

“And Daario Naharis?” Daenerys asked.

Ser Jorah looked disappointed and turned his head as Daario walked in, throwing a Yunkish banner before their feet. _A shame. That is one casualty I would not mourn._

“Summon the captains, get the Unsullied ready to march in the morning,” Jon ordered Grey Worm in Valyrian. “Arthur, get our soldiers ready as well. Rakharo, get our riders ready to move as well. In the morning, we will enter the city.”

Once his orders were finished, all their men filtered out while Ser Barristan and Ser Oswell remained posted just outside on guard. Visenya wondered what they would find in this city. _Will there be greater resistance? Will they find a comfortable place to live? Will this be the place of birth for my first child?_

 

 

**Rhaenys Targaryen**

Yunkai was an imposing city when one stood beneath its high walls. The city was old and parts of the wall looked to be crumbling. Despite her lack of knowledge regarding war, even she could tell the city would be easy to defend. The buildings looked old as well with their yellow bricks that were actually closer to the color of the sand and dirt surrounding the city. At the top of the city stood a stepped pyramid with a great statue of the Harpy visible for all to see. _Another city with another pyramid. We shall take this one as well._

The camp looked to be in organized chaos this morning and Rhaenys was surprised how quickly the tents were dismantled and packed away. The Unsullied and Targaryen household guard stood in perfect formation outside the city gate. The Dothraki were currently riding the surrounding area, scouting any potential armies that may be approaching. While they stood there waiting for the gates to be opened by the slaves who revolted, one of their soldiers informed them their small navy had taken the port of Yunkai that was outside the city’s walls. They were disappointed to find the small conquest only netted them thirty-five ships.

Now they stood on a large rock waiting for a signal or something from the Yunkish. She found herself leaning into Jon’s side and her fingers nearly locking with his own. She fought her urge to be close with him and act Queenly in front of others. It was a harder task than she imagined.

In the several months she had been reunited with Jon, she had fallen in love. It did not happen the same way as it did with Aegon. She loved Jon as a sister loves a brother, but then decided she would find no one better. It started as lust on their first night and quickly turned to love as she built an emotional connection with him. It was still not as deep as it was with Aegon, but she knew that would change. Soon, she would have Jon’s child and that would make them even closer than she was with Aegon. And that scared her. _It feels like I am almost betraying him. His memory._

She looked around and saw their Kingsguard standing with them. Ser Jorah, Daario, and Grey Worm were also present with Missandei there to translate. Allyria stood behind them with the rest of their family surrounded by the direwolves. The dragons sat perched in front of them. _Myrax looks restless sitting here, not flying in the sky._

When the gate to the city of Yunkai finally opened, thousands of slaves began to pour out. They were in no rush, but the ground between them and the city walls filled in quickly. It was then Missandei spoke up in Valyrian, “This King Jon and Queens Daenerys, Visenya, and Rhaenys of the House Targaryen. King and Queens of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. Khal and Khaleesis of the Great Grass Sea. Rulers of Astapor, Qarth, Qohor, Norvos, and Pentos. It is to them you owe your freedom.”

“No,” Daenerys stopped her. She announced in Valyrian, “You do not owe us your freedom. It is not ours to give. You must take it for yourselves. Each and every one of you.”

The mass of people remained quiet until they all started to scream “Myhsas”. Rhaenys did not understand what they were saying. _It must be some form of Bastard Valyrian I do not know._

“What are they saying?” Daenerys asked.

“Its Old Ghiscari your Grace. It means mothers,” Missandei answered.

The dragons began to scream at the Yunkish as they yelled and inched closer to the Unsullied soldiers protecting them. She heard Daenerys say, “It is alright. They will not hurt us.” Rhaenys watched as Dany walked down to her dragons and whispered to them. All three took flight and she turned to them. Understanding the look she gave, Rhaenys walked down with Visenya past their Unsullied with Daenerys into the crowd. She saw Jon right behind them with a hand firmly on Longclaw. Just as she locked eyes with him, she was hoisted on the shoulders of two men as the Yunkish yelled Myhsa and reached out to touch her. She heard them yell something different to Jon who looked completely uncomfortable under the attention and praise. He could lead and be the King, but this felt like something more.

_These people love us. We have saved them. Now I understand Daenerys’ conviction._ Taking a close look at every face in the crowd, Rhaenys saw how poor they were. Many looked malnourished and others unkept. She now felt like they were meant to be here in Essos and help these people. To break them from their chains and give them the freedom the people of Westeros have had. She wasn’t foolish enough to think thousands would not still struggle, but their lives would be better if they were not considered property.

After a while, Ser Oswell found her with several Targaryen soldiers and brought her a horse. All four rulers led the procession through the city on horseback. It was a slow ride through the winding streets that snaked up the hillside covered in buildings with a stepped pyramid at its peak.

The streets were narrow and the buildings seemed to lean over the streets themselves. Thousands lined their path to greet them and cheer. The Unsullied made sure to clear the way and make sure no threats approached. The people did make sure to stay away from the wolves. _They always have that effect on people._

When they stopped in front of the pyramid, Rhaenys took in the view and relaxed as they had taken another city. Her first. Jon led them up the stone stairs into the pyramid as several Unsullied walked past carrying the dead bodies of slain masters. Daario Naharis informed them halfway through the city that six out of every ten masters were slain.

Daenerys ordered the Unsullied to enter the manses of all the great families of the city to begin confiscating their wealth. Those that remained were allowed to keep half their gold for now even though they knew the masters likely had more hidden.

As they made their way through this pyramid, Rhaenys was happy to find it very similar to the one they took in Astapor. It would do for their time in this city. Now she felt like finding a bed and going to sleep. Visenya was the first to find them their chambers and Rhaenys discarded her clothes as soon as their handmaidens brought new sheets for her crawl into. When her eyes settled, she felt Jon wrap his arms around her to keep her warm.

 

 

**Tyrion Lannister**

“My Uncle Stannis never smiles. I’ll give him a red smile, from ear to ear,” Joffrey promised as they stood along the walls of King’s Landing, overlooking Blackwater Bay.

“Imagine Stannis’ terror,” Tyrion said. _The boy is a fool._

“I am trying,” Varys said.

Tyrion tried to think of ways they were going to fend off Stannis Baratheon and the Stormlords. They did not have an army, or knight, or any real soldiers to defend the city. _Not any of significant number anyway._

As they walked along the wall, Tyrion discussed what he wanted with Varys. He asked the eunuch what he wanted but did not get an answer. He began to reflect on himself and all the power he had recently gained. He was not used to it and did not expect it. He just wanted to make it out alive with Stannis threatening their lives.

When the subject shifted to all the people in the world being motivated by different gods, Tyrion wished for a better god. _A god of tits and wine._ That god would have to be found in a different land.

“This morning I heard a song, all the way from Astapor, in Slaver’s Bay. The Targaryens have conquered the city and lead an army of Unsullied. They have twelve dragons,” Varys informed him in a low voice for none to hear. Tyrion shook his head dismissively. _Sailors’ tales._ “Even if it were true, it will be some years before they are fully grown. Then, there will be nowhere to hide. Oh, and it gets worse. They have conquered all of the Dothraki.”

“One game at a time my friend,” he told the Master of Whispers as he looked out onto the bay. “Are you sure Queen Rhaella will not join forces with Stannis?”

“I am, my Lord,” Varys assured him. “My birds sing just as well from Dragonstone. They will not make a move until Jon Targaryen returns.”

“Even if we defeat Stannis, we still have to worry about Robb Stark and the Tullys. The Young Wolf has caused my father more troubles than predicted,” Tyrion reflected.

“He has, but things can change,” Varys said.

_What does he know that I do not? Who does he truly serve? Us? Himself? The Targaryens? Surely not the Realm._ _It does not matter. Stannis can take this city without Varys’ help. I just need to make sure the city doesn’t destroy itself before he arrives._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early update. Just in case anyone is worried, Daenerys will not even come close to getting with Daario. Next chapter, the Targaryens will get unexpected visitors and allies, Rhaella POV, and Robb dealing with the war with Tywin.


	18. A Falcon in Yunkai

**Jon Targaryen**

“They’re finally asleep,” Jon said as he watched Rhaenys and Visenya holding the babes in their arms. Everyday since their births, he thanked the gods if they truly existed. Visenya gave him a son with raven hair and grey eyes like his own and a daughter with silver hair and lilac eyes. He tried to dissuade her from her choice of names, but she crushed his protests rather easily. She named their son Jon and their daughter Daenerys. He thought it strange and preferred not to have a son named Jon, son of Jon. He always thought it odd. Visenya told him their first children would be named after the two closest people to her in her life. She even let him know of her hopes that their children would be wed one day.

Rhaenys held a son with Targaryen hair and violet eyes. He knew when he saw his son, he could only give him one name, Aegon. It surprised them to have a son with the typical Targaryen coloring, considering they both had dark hair inherited from their mothers. In the crook of her other arm slept Aegon’s twin sister, Nymeria, who appeared to hold her mother’s looks. When they were born, it was a great worry that the babes would not survive since they arrived earlier than expected, several days after Visenya gave birth. But now they looked perfectly healthy in their mother’s arms within the pyramid overlooking Yunkai.

Daenerys birthed two healthy babes before his other wives. Eddard, a boy with raven hair and grey eyes. Visenya, a girl with the normal Valyrian features. It seemed he could only father twins. Rhaenys made some jest after Aegon and Nymeria were born about his seed being strong.

“Yes. Unfortunately, they wait until midday to do so,” Rhaenys replied without taking her eyes off the babes. He felt like a fool for thinking otherwise, but Rhaenys’ love and nurturing for their children surprised him. She acted more protective and obsessive of her babes than even Visenya and Daenerys. _Motherhood has changed her. She is still fiery and hot-tempered at times._ “Have the former masters been causing anymore trouble?”

“No. They have stopped prodding us for more influence on the council. I let them know three seats at the table was more than generous considering they are few in number in this city. It still worries me however. Daenerys and I expected more of a fight. I expect them to raise troubles when we leave for Meereen. When they do, we’ll send the Second Sons and Stormcrows back to execute more masters if they go too far,” Jon reflected on the current political situation in Yunkai. Peace within the city wasn’t his only concern. A great number of slaves were struggling to find work and many vowed to follow them to Meereen. It was no secret that they were not long for Yunkai.

“Where is Dany?” Visenya asked.

“I think she was headed to the gardens with Rhaegar and Arya to be with Snow and Ghost. Allyria was with her. Our mother can’t stop doting over the babes whenever one of you lets them out of your grasp,” Jon answered.

“I have been thinking,” Rhaenys started. “When we return to Westeros, I do not want to promise our child to any lords to secure an alliance. I know you want to avoid as much bloodshed as possible, but I do not want to do it at the expense of our children.”

“I did not plan to,” Jon replied. _How could I do so when I chose the women I love? My children will choose their betrothed._

“I don’t want our children to marry any lords or ladies. They should only marry princes and princesses,” Visenya declared. Jon thought she was a bit too eager to have their children married. When he had mentioned Rhaegar being the future Prince of Dragonstone, Visenya was quick to speak up and say Arya should be named Princess of Dragonstone. Not even Daenerys had made such a wish known to him. He would not protest their marriage when they were of age, but he would not force it upon them. _Who can say what kind of bond they will share?_

“We’ll let them marry who they wish to,” Jon answered.

“But what of the dragons? Valyrian blood is needed to control them. And I do not want other houses having dragonriders. Remember what Alicent Hightower did to our family in the Dance?” Visenya replied.

“Aye. But all the blame did not lie with the Greens,” Jon replied. The Dance of Dragons always made him sad. It was perhaps the lowest point in their House’s history. Either that, or Maegor’s reign, or Aegon the Unworthy.

“She is right Jon. Daenerys will agree as well. Let our children choose, but they should only marry another with the Targaryen name. Or at least a Stark, Martell, or Dayne. A select few Houses we can trust,” Rhaenys added.

“If all three of you agree on the matter, then I will accept it. All I ask in return is that we do not commit to such a course until the time is upon us,” Jon acquiesced. In Astapor, Jon let his sisters know his reign would be different to that of his ancestors. Along the journey from Pentos to Qarth, Jon valued Daenerys’ opinion and saw her as a capable ruler. He let his sisters know his Queens would have more power than any Queens before them. They would make decisions together and they could overrule him, while hiding any disagreements from outsiders.

“My King, my Queens,” Ser Oswell walked into the doorway in his Kingsguard armor and white cloak. “Ships have arrived at the port. Sky-blue sails with a blue falcon against a moon. House Arryn.”

“House Arryn? See to it they are escorted here at once. I should like to hear of where their loyalty lies,” Jon ordered Oswell who turned on his heels to arrange the audience. “What do you think?”

“Lysa Arryn likely wants to betroth her son to Arya,” Rhaenys answered with an angered look. Rhaenys did not hide her disdain for the less than loyal houses in their homeland.

“Do you want us to come with you?” Visenya asked.

“No, I will handle this. Stay with our children,” Jon replied.

Jon left his wives behind to rest and not worry about the surprise visit from the Vale lords. He made sure to see Daenerys first and make her aware of the arriving ships. After doing so, he waited for their guests in the makeshift throne room in the pyramid. It was no substitute for the Red Keep or Dragonstone, but he did not care. At his side sat Ghost and Ser Arthur to his left. Lady Ashara Dayne was also in attendance with Ser Jorah Mormont. It took nearly an hour before the visitors walked in.

“You stand in the presence of King Jon of the House Targaryen, First of His Name, the White Wolf, rightful King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, Khal of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains,” Missandei announced to the Vale men standing before them.

“This is Lord Harrold of House Arryn, son of Lord Ronnel Arryn and with him, Lords Robar of House Royce and Waymar of House Royce,” a man declared.

“Lord Harrold, what brings you all this way from the Eyrie?” Jon asked.

“I have come to bend the knee to the one true King and swear fealty to House Targaryen,” Harrold Arryn answered as he knelt on one knee with the near dozen men standing behind him.

“Rise Lord Harrold. I am glad for your fealty but why? Lady Arryn has sworn no fealty to our House and has failed to fight for her own blood,” Jon addressed the young lord who looked a similar age with sandy hair and blue eyes.

“That is why we have come. My aunt sits by while Houses Stark and Tully fight the Lannisters. When you return to Westeros, I will rally the lords of the Vale to your side. You are my King and I will do as you command, but I ask for the support of House Targaryen to remove Lady Lysa from the Eyrie. My cousin is a sickly boy that will not be fit to rule as long as she raises him,” Harrold Arryn answered.

“I agree my Lord. As long as you know I will not allow Robin Arryn’s lordship to be stolen from him. He is the rightful heir, unless he proves to be simple or otherwise incapable to serve as Lord of the Vale,” Jon warned the lord. “And what of Lord Royce, where does he stand?”

“He sent us hear to serve you my King. You know our father,” the older Royce answered. _He must be Robar._

“Aye. Your father is a good man. I must warn you my lords, we do not plan to return to Westeros soon. If you stay here to serve me, it could be years before you return home,” Jon cautioned the men.

“If I may be so bold my King, may I ask why?” Harrold inquired with a suspicious face.

“I do not have the ships to bring my armies from Essos and our dragons are not fully grown yet,” Jon informed them.

“Dragons, your Grace?” Harrold questioned.

“Aye. We have twelve dragons. You will see them flying in the skies above this city. I must warn you, do not approach them if they land nearby,” Jon said in amusement as the disbelieving faces in front of him. “Now leave us my lords. Our servants will see to your accommodations.”

When the Vale lords were finally gone, Jon turned to Ser Jorah, “What do you think?”

“Hard to say. He sounds truthful, but then again, he could be lying. If Lysa Arryn and her son were removed, he is Lord of the Eyrie. But if Yohn Royce has sent two of his sons in support of this, I find it unlikely they will disobey your wishes for the future of the Vale,” Ser Jorah concluded.

“Either way, the Vale out of Lysa’s hands will be a good thing. If her son is removed, it is not a bad thing. I have heard of Lord Harrold. He was knighted by Lord Royce and is said to be a capable swordsman who carries himself with honor. He would make a good Lord of the Vale,” Ashara added.

“I will keep that in mind,” he answered thinking of how they could best handle the Eyrie upon their return. _Lord Harrold would likely make a far better lord than Robyn Arryn, but I will not take away a lordship that is rightfully his._

 

 

**Rhaella Targaryen**

“So, Stannis Baratheon is defeated?” she asked from her seat at the head of the painted table near Dorne. Lord Monford Velaryon sat near the Reach and Ser Jonothor sat by the Stormlands at the table.

“Yes, my Queen. Tywin Lannister fell on the Stormlords at the Mud Gate with a host of from Harrenhal and Loras Tyrell leading a host from Highgarden. The Imp destroyed a large part of his fleet with wildfire,” Lord Velaryon informed her.

“Wildfire?” Rhaella asked as memories of her late husband were brought back. She believed the wildfire was removed and destroyed by her son. _Some of the pyromancers must have survived._

“Yes, my Queen. Now the Reach fights for Joffrey and Robb Stark is bogged down in small battles across the Riverlands. It is only a matter of time before he is defeated,” Ser Jonothor answered. “Tywin has the numbers, the gold, and the resources. The Riverlands are hard to defend and the Starks do not seem to be able to reach further south with an offensive.”

“Has the gold and silver been secured in the vaults?”

“It has. Not as much as the shipment from Astapor, but quite a large amount. Has our King said when he plans to return?” Jonothor asked.

“His message said nothing of a change to his plans. Only that they took Yunkai and plan to take Meereen next. And also, that my daughter and granddaughters are with child,” Rhaella answered. The news warmed her heart. She would soon have plenty of grandchildren. _I just hope I will see them soon._

“There is more news from our friend in King’s Landing. Prince Doran has betrothed Princess Arianne to Joffrey Baratheon,” Jonothor said.

“Doran Martell will pay, with fire and blood. He betrayed Rhaenys and Elia when he refused to answer their call. Then he betroths a son to Myrcella Baratheon. Now he does the same with his daughter. I will not stop Rhaenys from destroying House Martell should she choose to do so,” Rhaella said calmly in a queenly voice. “But what of Margaery Tyrell? She would be more valuable to the Lannisters as Joffrey’s queen.”

“We do not know why she was not chosen,” Lord Velaryon said.

_What games are the Tyrells playing? Olenna missing a chance to make Margaery a queen? I think not._

“That will be all my lords,” she dismissed the Master of Ships and knight of the Kingsgaurd. When Lord Monford gave her a look wishing to stay, she waved him away. The lord has been seeking her hand for years since the death of his lady. _I admire his commitment to the pursuit. Perhaps I may accept one day._

Her thoughts then turned to Winterfell and Theon Greyjoy. She thought about sending men north before being counseled to avoid such an action. Her advisors told her Robb Stark would still have enough men in the North to retake the castle. The Ironborn had invaded the North and taken Winterfell, Moat Cailin, and Deepwood Motte. The Greyjoys started off raiding the western shores and then moved inland, taking several keeps. Ser Jonothor reasoned it would not last. The Ironborn made for poor fighters on land, he said.

Losing Winterfell was another setback for House Stark, their most loyal bannermen. She felt for House Stark for they may lose more than her own House. Ned Stark was killed and Arya is missing. Now Bran and Rickon Stark are held by the Greyjoys. _Another rebellious house for my grandson to deal with. This time, he needs to finish what his father started with the last Greyjoy Rebellion._

 

 

**Robb Stark**

The war against the Westerlands started off with many victories on the field of battle. In fact, Robb had not lost a battle yet, but was starting to fear the momentum was starting to slip from his fingers. He had just been told of Stannis’ defeat with the Reach fighting for Joffrey. His brothers were taken by Theon Greyjoy and the Ironborn at Winterfell. An entire war was being fought in his lands while he was leading another in the Riverlands.

To make matters even worse, his mother weakened their position by releasing Jaime Lannister. Roose Bolton assured him his best men were searching for him. He could not understand what his mother was thinking. _What is to stop them from killing Sansa now? Tywin wouldn’t do it. But Joffrey?_

“You sent for me?” his mother entered the tent.

“Aye. A raven from Dragonstone,” he replied, handing her the scroll for her to read.

“So, the Tyrells and Martells are against us,” his mother replied.

“It will be some time before the Dornish can enter the war. If I had to guess, Tywin will keep the armies from the Reach and Dorne in the South. Stannis still lives and those armies will be kept close to deter Rhaella from storming King’s Landing,” Robb stated in frustration. The chances for victory were growing slimmer.

“It says nothing of your cousin,” his mother replied.

“No, it does not. We will have to fight this war on our own,” Robb answered.

“What kind of King lets his kingdom destroy itself while he sits across the Narrow Sea?” his mother asked.

“He is no longer just the King of the Seven Kingdoms. If I were in his position, I would do the same,” Robb answered. He also knew Jon would need to acquire ships to ferry his armies to Westeros. That would take time and gold.

“What is our next move?”

“Our? After releasing Jaime Lannister, you are lucky I keep you informed of anything,” he responded in frustration. After taking a moment to calm his nerves, he continued, “There is a Lannister host near Acorn Hill. We will march on the morrow.”

When his mother left, his thoughts drifted to his brothers and sisters. He questioned whether he would see them again. _Arya is likely dead and Sansa is a prisoner to Joffrey. And who can say what will happen to Bran and Rickon?_

 

 

**Lyanna Stark**

Having spent most of her day watching over her grandchildren with Elia, Lyanna left the nursery to find her son. They had not really spoken for several days since he was consumed with the affairs of Yunkai, planning the march on Meereen, and being a father to his newborns. She did not know how he did it.

Walking through the corridors of the pyramid with Zokla at her side, she ran her hand through the direwolf’s fur as they passed the Unsullied and Targaryen soldiers at their posts. She feared her son may have left the pyramid to attend to some matters in the city until she caught Ghost sitting outside Jon’s office near his quarters.

Rounding the corner, through the doorway, she found Arthur Dayne guarding her son. Jon was concentrating on a map of Slaver’s Bay spread across the table in the middle of the room where he held his daily meetings. He seemed particularly focused on Meereen and the surrounding lands.

“Arthur, please give us a moment,” she asked her late husband’s best friend and most trusted advisor. _As long as Arthur is at Jon’s side, he will be safe from those who mean him harm._

“Yes, your Grace,” he nodded and left them immediately to stand outside with the two direwolves.

“Looking at the map any harder will not give away any secrets to taking Meereen,” she jested, earning a slight smile on her son’s face. _My poor boy does not smile enough. He liked to brood even as a child. His father’s son._ Lyanna feared he would smile even less now that he was a King. It gave her hope whenever she saw him with his children or his wives. Around them, she always saw him filled with joy.

“No, but I need to know the lands surrounding Meereen before we leave,” he said, finally removing his gaze from the map.

“You know better than that my son. The people who live here will always know how to defend the lands better than us. Do you think Tywin Lannister or any other lord for that matter could look at a map of the North and know how to conquer it?” she asked.

“You are right Mother. What brings you here?” he asked as she stepped toward him.

“I came to make sure my son was not wearing himself thin. I worry for you sometimes. You remind me of your father when he wore the crown. It weighed too heavily upon him. He would be the first to tell you now that there will not always be a right or wrong decision. Only the hard choice a King must make, for the good of the Realm and his House,” she told him before pulling him in for a hug. _I do not hug him enough. I took my husband for granted. I never thought I would lose him. I will cherish every moment I have with Jon and Visenya._

“I wish he were here,” he whispered against her ear before removing himself from her embrace.

“I know. He would be so proud to see what you have become. To see what you have accomplished and done here in Essos. Dragons?” she laughed, just thinking of how Rhaegar would react to sight of the beasts ruling the skies. “In his wildest dreams, he would not imagine their return.”

“Do you think I am doing the right thing? Robb stands alone against the Lannisters. I am not so sure father or Aegon would just standby and wait out the war,” Jon said with a defeated look on his face.

“You are doing the right thing. You are a King now, you must not show doubt in your decisions, at least to outsiders. You can always be honest with me.  Your father and brother did not stand where you stand now. You were a ruler in Essos before you inherited a throne in Westeros. When you return to take the Iron Throne, you will do so with dragons and the largest army Westeros has every seen,” she comforted her son.

“I never wanted this. Aegon should have been King. He was meant to be King. All I wanted was Daenerys, a family, and a chance to serve my brother when he took his throne. I will never be the King he would have been,” he said in despair.

“You will. You are already a great King from what I have seen. Ruling is hard, but I raised a strong Northern son with the Blood of Old Valyria. If I were you, I would worry more about loving your Queens and raising little princes and princesses. They are more important than any crown or realm,” she said. He seemed to agree with her, nodding his head.

“Sometimes I worry Rhaenys will wake up and realize she made a mistake. She will come to her senses and realize I am not Aegon. I love her, but I fear I could lose her,” he said with a worried look.

“Don’t be a fool. She loves you, just as much as Daenerys and Visenya. You have given her the world. You gave her a son and daughter. Even before, I saw the way she looked at you. Aegon will always be a part of her, but she cannot live the rest of her life alone,” she told her son. _Aegon is gone Jon. He would rather you marry her than some stupid lord._

“Will you find another?” Jon asked, surprising her. She did not know what to say at first.

“I thought we were talking about you,” she said, trying to avert the subject. _I am a hypocrite. I would tell Rhaenys to move on but not myself. Who can replace the love of my life? Rhaegar was my everything._

“We were, but now I am asking you,” he countered.

“You wish to marry me off to some lord from the Reach?” she asked, knowing he would never do such a thing.

“Of course not Mother. I just want you to be happy. If you find someone, I will not object, not that it matters,” he said with good intentions. _Even if he did, he knows he could not stop me. My father and brother did not stop me from marrying Rhaegar._

“Do Lord Arryn and Yohn Royce’s sons plan to follow us to Meereen?” she asked, turning their attention back to the matters of ruling.

“Yes. They are eager to prove themselves and have the support of House Targaryen when they return to the Vale,” Jon answered.

“Good. Keep them close and you will have friends for years to come to help you rule the Vale,” she said, thinking of the sickly son of Lysa Arryn. _Lysa should consider herself lucky Cersei is such an evil bitch. Otherwise, she would be the most repulsive lady in the Seven Kingdoms._

“I will not take away the Eyrie from Robin Arryn. It is his by right and not even a King should do so without just cause,” her son said. _My brother instilled too much of his honor into my son. Being a good King does not always mean doing the honorable thing._

“If they refuse to bend the knee, remove the boy from his mother, and send him to the Citadel or the Wall,” she counseled.

“I will worry about that when the time comes. For now, we must focus on Essos. We will not return to Westeros before the time is right, unless the tide turns too heavily against Robb,” he said, turning back towards his desk that was filled with scrolls.

“Just remember my son, these slavers have less honor than even the lords of Westeros. Grey Worm and Missandei are right. Do not give them any openings or show weakness. They will take advantage of it,” she warned before bidding him farewell.

“I’ll keep that in mind Mother. I will see you at supper,” he said, sitting in his chair, diving into his work.

Lyanna turned to leave, glancing one last time over her shoulder to peak at her only son hard at work, ruling a city. Not wanting to intrude any longer, she turned the corner to let Arthur back in and waved her direwolf to follow her back to the children’s nursery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did say there were going to be a lot of little Targaryens in this story. Not entirely pleased with how this chapter turned out. I think I could have done more with Rhaella's part. Next chapter will be in Meereen and Arya makes an appearance.


	19. Meereen

**300 AC**

**Daenerys Targaryen**

Standing at the head of their Unsullied outside the gates of Meereen, Daenerys looked up at the city’s high walls that stood atop large, jagged rock formations. Laying siege to the city would be near impossible, Jon had told her. All their advisors agreed. That is why they had catapulted the broken chains and collars of slaves over the walls after their speech. It is why they had sent Grey Worm and several Unsullied through the undefended sewers of Meereen to give weapons to the slaves.

Several captains from the Meereenese navy had already surrendered to their side and no one was leaving the city by land or sea. The sun was starting to rise and the skies above were starting to illuminate. Overhead, she saw their dragons flying in circles around their army. Her gaze shifted from the dragons when she heard one of the Unsullied yell with his spear pointed at the Great Pyramid of Meereen.

Atop the pyramid, a Targaryen banner covered the harpy statue that stood at the massive structure’s peak. Daenerys smiled as she turned to find Jon and his sisters smiling at the sight as well. The city would soon be theirs. The slaves had revolted on their own as they had in Yunkai.

An hour after the Targaryen banner was spotted atop the pyramid, the gates of the city opened to them. At their opening, Jon ordered the army in. The Unsullied were ordered to secure the walls, pyramid, and great families that remained. The sellswords were to take the port. The Dothraki were to patrol the streets until the Unsullied could join them.

Riding through the city to the cheers of the freed slaves, Daenerys rode next to Jon, surrounded by their Kingsguard and Unsullied. The city was larger than all the others they had conquered before. The Great Pyramid was the largest structure she had ever seen beside The Wall. As they made their way past the crowds, the people screamed for her, Visenya, and Rhaenys. Tales of their kindness to the poor had spread to Meereen. She would always remember their faces and know she had a responsibility to make their lives at least a little better.

It was several hours before they reached a hillside within the city with some of its greatest manses. The stairs they climbed were lined with people cheering for them. It was near the top of this hillside in the shadow of a large manse that they found all the heads of Meereen’s powerful families. Grey Worm turned to Jon, looking for the command which he gave with the nod of his head.

“Are you sure about this?” Jon asked, masking his doubt with a confidant face for everyone else to see.

“I am. You saw every child nailed to the mile markers along the road. We will answer that injustice with justice,” she replied. She could see the conflict written on his face.

Daenerys hoped their families heard their screams as the Unsullied nailed them to the wooden posts for all to see. _They should think twice before murdering innocent children again._ After the gruesome spectacle, Jon spoke to the former slavers and warned them slavery was finished in Meereen. He also warned them of any reprisals against the freed slaves or their men.

Once that was finished, they went straight to the Great Pyramid that they would occupy. The climb was long and strenuous. The pyramid was massive, with large halls and long stairs. But when she finally reached their quarters at the top, it was well worth it. They had a view of the entire city and the Bay of Dragons, formerly Slaver’s Bay. There were even other pyramids across the city that would look imposing in any other city.

“What do you think of it?” Lyanna asked in the middle of the nursery room connected to their chambers with Arya in her arms.

“Its not home, but it will do,” she replied. She then pinched Arya’s face before moving over to her daughter, Princess Visenya. Her second daughter laid next to her twin who was asleep in the crib. She took her daughter in her arms and began whispering to the babe how much she loved her.

“I like it,” Allyria said with Rhaegar in her arms, sitting next to Elia who was doting upon Aegon and Nymeria in their cribs. “I am jealous you have a pool to swim in. It isn’t the Water Gardens, but it is something to cool off in.”

“You are free to swim in it whenever you wish,” she told Allyria. “By the way, I’m told supper will be ready in an hour or so.” Daenerys then stood and placed Visenya back in her cribs. From there, she went to their solar to find Jon with their advisors.

“Grey Worm, gather your captains and begin to organize a city watch made up of freed men. The people of this city will need to learn to keep the peace and defend it themselves,” he ordered in High Valyrian. “Lord Harrold, oversee the port and the maintenance of the our newly acquired ships.” _Daario Naharis can be annoying with his flirtations, but he does have a talent for acquiring things we want._

“Ser Barristan, oversee the security of the pyramid and make sure the gardens near the pyramid are cleared for the dragons. That is where they will stay. I want Unsullied guarding it at all times,” Jon said looking around at everyone standing at the table. “If that is all, you are dismissed.”

Everyone filtered out besides Jon, Visenya, and Rhaenys. “After supper, I think we should go for a swim,” she suggested.

“You do?” Jon replied as he stepped forward and pulled her against his front. As she looked up into his eyes, she closed her eyes the instant his lips sealed with her own. “I look forward to it my Queen,” he said in a husky voice as he left her lips while slipping a hand down the small of her back under her dress to her ass. As his hand kneaded her cheek, she let out a whimper before pushing him away.

“You are incorrigible,” she said before looking at Visenya and Rhaenys who had looks in their eyes as if they were ready to pounce on Jon in an instant. “Now go see our children.”

Jon followed her order and she took a seat across from Visenya and Rhaenys. Both had already changed into new dresses that left little to the imagination. Daenerys wondered what Lyanna thought of how Visenya dressed now. _Not that she can say anything now that her daughter is a Queen and a mother now._

“How long do you think we will stay in Meereen?” Visenya asked.

“I don’t know. Years? Until the dragons are grown and we have solidified our position here,” Daenerys stated. As the words left her mouth, they stung. She missed Dragonstone and Westeros. She missed her mother and wanted her children to see their grandmother.

“Are we finished conquering cities in Essos?” Rhaenys asked.

“Yes. Unless some of the other cities make problems for us. They would be wise to accept our rule,” Daenerys said. _It is likely New Ghis, Mantarys, Elyria, and Tolos will oppose us._ Jon already set plans for taking those cities if it came to it. The Second Sons and Stormcrows were familiar with the cities. Jon planned for them to take Elyria and New Ghis. If Tolos or Mantarys opposed them, they would let their khalasar in Vaes Dothrak get some practice.

“They will not. Our banishment of slavery threatens their existence,” Rhaenys said before sipping on a glass of wine. “At the first sign of weakness, they will strike.” _If they do, we will bring them fire and blood._

 

She had just put her children to sleep after an enjoyable dinner. From her place on the terrace overlooking the city, she could see the sun nearly setting in the west, painting the sky in an orange hue. Looking to an empty solar behind her, it occurred to her where Jon was.

Making her way through their apartment atop the pyramid, she walked down a corridor to the southern side of the apartment that held the terrace with a pool. There, she saw Jon removing his clothes and Visenya and Rhaenys waiting for him in the water. She couldn’t help but admire his ass and muscular back as he stepped into the water. When he finally submerged under the surface, Daenerys began to remove her dress so she could join them.

As she set one foot into the water, her skin found the water to be of a pleasant temperature. _I should have warned Lyanna and Elia not to go for a swim tonight. Not that they have any room to talk._ Wading through the water, she followed Jon to the sisters at the end of the pool. They were quick to attack him and feast on his lips. Daenerys moved her hands below the surface to get a firm grip on his muscular ass. She knew he hated when she complimented it, but did not care.

Jon began to leave his marks on Visenya’s breasts and Daenerys reached around his hips to find Rhaenys already stroking his length. Knowing Rhaenys would not share, she decided to take his stones in hand. She smiled when it earned a growl from her husband. “Get inside me right now. Your Queen commands it,” Visenya finally ordered.

Rhaenys let him go and Jon scooped Visenya up to pin her against the edge of the pool. As he thrust up into her with her breasts bouncing in his face, Rhaenys pulled Daenerys in for a kiss. Visenya began to see stars under her hooded eyes by the look on her face and the Valyrian words pouring out of her mouth. Daenerys decided Rhaenys also needed to be attended to and she slid her fingers down to Rhaenys’ clit. While getting Rhaenys’ nub swollen with pleasure, Daenerys began to suckle on her large breasts that were the envy of everyone at court in King’s Landing.

“Don’t stop, yes, yes, keep going brother. Right there,” Visenya sobbed as Jon started to slam as hard as he could into her without being violent. As her husband jerked uncontrollably, spilling his seed, Daenerys refocused on her duties. Just as Rhaenys was reaching her climax, Daenerys slipped two fingers into her cunt while still attending to her nub. It did the trick as her legs wrapped around Daenerys and spasmed while her nails dug in her scalp and back.

“Fuck Dany, that was perfect,” Rhaenys moaned.

“Come here you two,” Jon said as he pulled both of them in for kisses with a hand on her ass.

“Can we just enjoy the water for a bit before we continue? Making love in the water isn’t easy,” Daenerys pleaded, earning a smile from Jon.

“As you say,” he answered while lifting her into his grasp. She wrapped her legs around his waist and could feel his cock pressed against her core. “You are so beautiful. I get lost in those eyes every time.”

“I know. I prefer yours. They remind me of the storm clouds we would watch roll over the Blackwater in my room when we were children,” she replied. Sneaking into one another’s rooms as children were some of her fondest memories. It was in those times they built their inseparable connection. She did not realize it then, but Visenya felt the same as well when she was included in their adventures.

“Did you ever think our life would turn out like this?” he asked, motioning to their surroundings with his eyes.

“No. I never expected to be a Queen. I just wanted you, the Prince of Summerhall. Maybe that will be one of our daughters dreams one day. Perhaps Eddard and Visenya will marry and rule from Summerhall,” she pondered. _We will need to build more castles. Our family is going to become quite large._ “What do you think will happen to Summerhall while we are gone?”

“I forgot to mention it. House Selmy is maintaining it. Grandmother sent word to their House and they promised to protect it unless it became impossible,” Jon said. “I do not think Tywin cares for it or has the time to take it.”

“Good. It belongs to our family and not the lions of Casterly Rock,” Daenerys said as she leant forward to taste his lips and run her tongue along his.

“I thought we were just swimming?” Rhaenys complained.

“We are,” she defended herself. Knowing Rhaenys was right, she released Jon and submerged below the water to cool off. When she emerged, she found Rhaenys in Jon’s arms. _Of course._ Suddenly, she felt lips on her shoulder and Visenya’s hands around her stomach watching Jon with Rhaenys.

“You are the kindest person I know,” Visenya said in a low tone against her ear.

“What makes you say that?” she asked with a hint of amusement.

“This. If I were you and had our husband all to myself, I am not sure I would have let us into the bed,” Visenya answered.

“Yes, you would have,” Daenerys said, rolling her eyes. _She is too kind. She let Rhaenys become his Queen after herself._

“Let us take this back to our bed,” Jon announced after he released a panting Rhaenys.

Daenerys swam over to the steps in the pool and walked out, with water dripping down on the stones below her. Jon stepped out and approached her. In an instant, he had her over his shoulders. “Put me down this instant,” she protested while he laughed. “This isn’t funny.”

“Aye,” he replied before gently kissing the side of her ass and giving it a good smack. It made her wet and now she wanted him to throw her against a wall and take her right there. Instead, Jon carried her off into the hallway and through their solar into the bed chambers. Without seeing where she was going to land, he flung her body onto their bed.

The moment she was on her back, she spread her legs, begging for his entrance. He was quick to oblige and guided his cock into her heat. His thrusts were quick and deep. “Oh, Jon, my love, deeper, go…,” she mumbled in Valyrian as her words began to fade. As their wet flesh collided, Rhaenys slid beside her and moved her hand down to reciprocate for earlier. She tilted her head to find Visenya lying on the other side, who started to fondle and suckle at her breasts.

It was all too much as it was all the times before. Her toes began to curl and her fists clenched the sheets as her climax rippled through her body. While she was coming down from her climax, she felt Jon’s length twitch and paint her velvet walls. _We were supposed to have a relaxing night with a swim to cool off from the Meereenese heat._

When Jon rolled over on his back in the center of their bed, she pulled herself to his side to stay warm. It was a habit that she never wanted to rid herself of. Even before, when they shared a bed innocently in their youth, she clung to Jon as if her life depended on it. Daenerys never wanted to let him go and it always felt odd when he was not there to hold her close.

Their first day in Meereen was long and exhausting. It exacted its toll and she was ready to get some much-needed sleep. After closing her eyes, her thoughts drifted to the new challenges that stood in their path. They planned to rule from Meereen for more than a year and that meant they were not going to be conquering more cities in the future. _We cannot hide behind representatives and councils left to rule our holdings. Here, in Meereen, we will have to prove ourselves as King and Queens, and not just conquerors. Aegon the Conqueror achieved that. Can we?_

 

 

**Jon Targaryen**

His eyes flickered open to an unfamiliar ceiling and an unfamiliar room. Gathering his wits, the dark room told him the sun had not risen from the horizon yet. As he tried to move up and look outside their bedchambers, he felt Daenerys and Visenya’s arms on his chest with their legs tangled with his own. Sleeping with them was like sleeping in a blacksmith’s furnace. They were the blood of Old Valyria and he wondered sometimes why they bothered with the silk sheets.

Just as he was deciding to go back to his sleep, he realized Rhaenys was missing. His eyes darted from corner to corner of the room until he saw Rhaenys standing naked as her first nameday at the edge of the terrace overlooking this new city. Her dark brown hair was beginning to reach the small of her back. His wives were starting to fashion their hair in more intricate braids. They were khaleesis who had not seen defeat. _I will not let them see defeat._

When he first noticed her absence, he guessed she had gone to Aegon and Nymeria. Now, his eyes could not leave her perfect form. But as soon as his thoughts concentrated on his beautiful sister, wife, and queen, he also thought of what all he loved about her. Her fiery temper and defensiveness over their House. Her passion for horseback riding and her love for all the things Daenerys and Visenya did not care for. Rhaenys loved songs, dancing, and feasts. He did not enjoy them himself but he appreciated her passion for them.

_What did I do to deserve her? Why did the gods steal Aegon from her and her from him?_ The longer he stared at her, the more guilt he felt. _I can never give her the life she wanted. The one she dreamed of. How can I ever compare to my brother? He was the best man I ever knew._

It was then he decided he needed to speak with her and open his thoughts to her. He could tell she loved him and would do anything for their children. But there was a small part of him that worried she felt like part of her heart was missing or she was living a life she never intended.

As he crawled off the bed, he heard Daenerys stir, and mumble, “Where are you going? Get back in here.”

“Go back to sleep love,” he whispered before leaving a peck on her hip. While walking towards the terrace, he glanced back to see Daenerys move over to Visenya to stay warm. As he silently stepped behind Rhaenys, he asked, “Have trouble sleeping?”

“Yes,” was all she said. As he placed a kiss on her shoulder, he realized the sky was turning blue, signaling the sun would soon rise. After standing there with her for some time, she finally turned to face him with a worried look. “What is wrong?”

“I am sorry. I know this isn’t the life you intended. The one you deserved. You should have spent the rest of your life with Aegon. I know I cannot take his place in your heart, but I promise I will love you until the end of our days and be the best husband I can be. I…,” he tried to continue before she placed a finger on his lips with a tear falling from one eye down her cheek.

“Jon, you bloody fool. Stop talking. I love you. I am in love with you. I will always love Egg and he will always have a place in my heart. But you are my husband, my King, and the father of my children. I cannot imagine a life without you now. If you are worried I do not love you, then you are the stupidest man I have ever known. I love you just as much as Dany or Senya. I hope you know that because I know you love me. I can see it in your eyes. In your actions. In your words,” Rhaenys said with her hand cupping the side of his face.

“You are right, I am a fool,” he said with a small laugh. “Dany always says so anyways. Her northern fool.”

“Well perhaps we should find a new King. We can’t have a fool on the Iron Throne, leading our House to destruction,” Rhaenys jested. Not letting her get away with it, he moved in to tickle her sensitive spot that earned a giggle from her as she tried to get away. “Alright, I surrender,” she yipped as he brought her flush against his front.

He gazed into her eyes in admiration before plunging his tongue into her mouth, conducting a fierce battle of passion with her own. Her breasts felt perfect against him. The cool winds had hardened her nipples and he was doing his best to keep her warm against the elements. “Jon, take me back to bed,” she commanded after finally releasing his mouth for air.

“As you say my Queen,” he replied, scooping her up with his hands on her ass. With her arms around his neck, he tasted her lips until they reached their bed. He was careful to lay her down and slide behind her with an arm covering her breasts with his nose buried in her flowing hair.

Her words had done wonders for his mind and he felt like a great weight had been lifted. He was happy to know she loved him and did not feel trapped in an unwanted marriage in a life she did not dream of. But he also knew he must not remain content with his marriages. He would promise himself every morning to strive to be a better husband and King. To demonstrate his love and devotion to his wives as they have done for him.

 

 

**Arya Stark**

“Joffrey, Cersei, Tywin Lannister, Ilyn Payne, The Hound, Meryn Trant, The Mountain, Polliver,” Arya repeated over and over again while sitting in a dark cave behind a waterfall somewhere in the Riverlands. She quickly lost track of where they were going when they were separated from Hot Pie at the Crossroads Inn.

“Will you shut it. Repeating those names isn’t going to kill them,” Gendry Baratheon finally spoke up, sitting next to her as they watched the water crash into the stream in front of them.

“You should want them dead too,” she replied. _He doesn’t understand. He has not seen his father’s head taken with his own eyes._

“I do, but I do not need to go on all day, repeating their names,” Gendry answered.

“Do you think the Brotherhood will actually return us to our families?” she asked.

“Who can say? I guess it all depends on who their leader is. If all they care about is gold, then they will probably sell us to the Lannisters,” Gendry said, shaking his head at the end. “I still can’t believe you let Tywin get away. You had three names to give.”

“Shut up,” Arya hissed back at him. _He is right. I can deny it, but it is true. I was stupid and selfish like Sansa._ “We got out of Harrenhal, did we not?”

“Aye, but you could have ended the war,” Gendry scolded her.

Arya decided it best not to reply. _What can I say to that?_ As she stared at the water falling, she began to think back on what little information she gathered from their travels about her brother and the war. He won battles at Whispering Wood, Riverrun, The Crag, Acorn Hall, Pinkmaiden, and Hollow Hill. She had not heard of a loss. That much was clear from her time serving as Tywin Lannister’s cupbearer. _Robb will never lose a battle. Father taught him and he is a skilled fighter. If only Jon were with him. The war would be over._

Her thoughts were interrupted by a man who looked of similar age to her cousin Visenya. His hair was a dark brown and his eyes were a dark purple. He reminded her of Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. Her favorite knight. Watching Ser Arthur spar with Jon at Winterfell was one of her favorite things to do in the world. Her father had told her the knight was the greatest swordsmen to ever live and she never saw a reason to question it. _Although, Jon was getting close to his skill._

“Who are you two?” the dark-haired stranger asked with his hand on his sheathed sword.

“Prisoners of your Brotherhood,” Gendry answered.

“Do I know you? Your face is familiar,” the stranger asked.

“He is Gendry Baratheon, son of Stannis Baratheon,” she answered. Gendry gave her an angered look. She returned an angered look. _He is going to find out regardless._ “And I am Arya Stark of Winterfell.”

“I saw you at the tourney at Storm’s End,” the stranger answered. “And you are Jon and Visenya’s cousin. My name is Edric Dayne, son of Alaric Dayne, Lord of Starfall.”

“You are Allyria’s cousin? She told me all about you,” Arya answered. Just mentioning her sister hurt. _I hope I see her again._

“You know Allyria?” Edric asked.

“Yes, she is my sister,” she answered which caused the son of Starfall to give her a funny look. “Half-sister.”

“Ned Stark is Allyria’s father?” he asked and she nodded. “Does she know this?”

“Yes, we only had a few months to know each other. As sisters anyways,” Arya reflected with her thoughts turned to their time together from Winterfell to the Red Keep.

“What are you doing with the Brotherhood Without Banners?” Gendry asked.

“I am, well was, a squire to Lord Beric Dondarrion when Lord Stark sent Beric to bring the Mountain to justice. We have been fighting in the Riverlands since. This war is ravaging the countryside and its people. Beric and Thoros are doing their best to protect the smallfolk. Have you seen Lord Beric yet?” he asked. They could only shake their heads. “You will. I promise he will return you to your families. If you are truly kin to Allyria, then you are my kin. I will make sure you stay safe, but I can’t say when we will return you to your brother. He is always on the move, keeping the lions guessing. Even we can’t keep track of his movements or guess his next move.”

“Can you just let me go? I can find my way to Storm’s End,” Gendry requested.

“You wouldn’t make it. I do not even know if you could make it through the Stormlands,” Edric speculated. “Has anyone told you about your father?”

“No, what is it? Is he dead?” Gendry asked with a quiver in his voice.

“No. But his army was defeated at King’s Landing. Tywin Lannister led a host from Harrenhal and attacked your father at the Mud Gate with help from the Tyrells. A good number of his ships were destroyed by wildfire on the Blackwater. I have heard he has sailed back to Storm’s End. Your uncle Renly is dead. Killed before your father took his forces. No one knows where the Stormlords stand now or what their strength is,” Edric stated.

“Have you heard anything about my cousin Jon? The true King,” Arya asked.

“I can’t say I have. I know my uncle, aunt, and Allyria left for Essos to find him, but no more than that,” Edric replied before walking deeper into the cave. It seemed all the members of the Brotherhood liked him as he greeted them all and they gave him a warm welcome.

_When will Jon return? He needs to get back to Westeros. He needs to help Robb. The Lannisters must pay. Joffrey and Cersei must pay._

“Joffrey, Cersei, Tywin Lannister, Ilyn Payne, The Hound, Meryn Trant, The Mountain, Polliver,” she said under her breath, returning to her list.

 

 

**Elia Martell**

“Sleep well sweetling,” Elia whispered to little Nymeria, who had already closed her eyes and fallen asleep beside Aegon in their cribs within the nursery connected to her daughter’s chambers. Her feet were keeping her in place as she struggled to tear her eyes away from her grandchildren. This was her nightly routine. She would check on the little babes before finding her own bed and Rhaenys would visit after to kiss her children goodnight.

The past year should have been one of the happiest of her life. She had two grandchildren and a daughter happily married from what she could tell. Most of her days were spent doting upon the grandchildren with Lyanna and not having to be present at court as she had been when she was the Queen.

Whenever she would reflect on the joy and happiness her grandchildren brought her, grief and despair would spread into her thoughts. She loved her grandson, but his name and appearance reminded her so much of the son she lost. He reminded her of the husband she lost. Nothing could replace the places they held in her heart.

“Mother,” Rhaenys said, breaking her thoughts. “I can take it from here. You and Ashara did enough to look after the children earlier. You should get some rest.”

“I am sorry. I just find myself staring at little Egg every night. He reminds me so much of your brother as a babe,” she replied.

“There is nothing to be sorry for. I miss him too. And father,” Rhaenys comforted her as she stood beside herself with a hand ghosting along her back. _I should be the one to offer warming words to my daughter. Instead she is trying to raise my spirits._

“I have never actually asked, but are you happy? With your marriage I mean? It is obvious for anyone to see you love these two, but I have never asked about you and Jon,” she questioned her daughter.

“I am. This is the happiest I have ever been. I love him and he loves me. It is different than it was with Aegon, but we are just as dedicated to each other. I feel lucky. I had doubts and questions at first, but those are wind. Some nights, I still miss Aegon and I think about father, but Jon is always there to comfort me. We have been honest with each other and he understands our brother will always be a part of my soul,” her daughter said.

“Good. I will let you be with your babes now. I will see you on the morrow,” she bid her daughter farewell for the night. She made sure to embrace Rhaenys before leaving.

She took her usual path through the corridor, walking past Shadow who patrolled the royal apartment. Eventually, she made her way down the stairs past Ser Oswell who never stood guard in the actual apartment to give the King and Queens their privacy. Her room was a level below. The chambers she shared with Lyanna were large and comfortable. _It is not home._

Stepping through the doorway to their bedchamber, her eyes found Lyanna nude on top of the sheets, bathed in moonlight. Their bed was a few steps from a covered terrace that was just below one of the terraces of the royal apartment atop the pyramid. Elia approached the bed and removed her dress before crawling into bed behind Lyanna.

Slipping behind Lyanna, she placed a small kiss on her shoulder which unintentionally stirred her awake. Lyanna’s hips naturally wiggled so her ass moved back into her front and Elia moved an arm around Lyanna to hold her close. She heard Lyanna mumble something but could not make out the words.

She still loved Lyanna and cherished her company, but it did not feel the same without Rhaegar. For the past year, it always felt like there was something missing. _Rhaegar._ They shared a bed, but it sometimes felt like they were sleeping alone.

They still passionately made love together and explored each other’s bodies that they knew so well. But it was not the same. Sometimes she feared they still did it out of habit, lust, or just to see to one another’s needs. _I pray this feeling passes. Sometimes, when we are making love, I do not feel anything. I am just numb._

“Elia, are you awake?” Lyanna asked. _I thought she was asleep._

“Yes,” she answered, wondering what was going to come of this conversation.

“It pains me to even think about it, much less ask you. Have you thought of marrying again? Finding another husband?” Lyanna asked.

“It never occurred to me. I have a hard time imagining a man who can replace Rhaegar,” she answered. _No one can replace him._ “Why? Do you wish to have separate chambers?”

“No. It isn’t that. I do not really know, it is just different. Us I mean. Sometimes I feel like the connection we had has been broken. Was Rhaegar the link holding us together? I cannot say, but I feel like something has changed. And it does feel odd at times. It is not as if we prefer women in the first place,” Lyanna explained. _She is right. I would not believe it if I was told of the things I would do with Lyanna and Rhaegar before I was married._

“I think I understand. If you do find a man that can make you happy, you should take hold of that. I think Rhaegar would want us to live a full life and be happy,” she stated. “But until then, I think we should talk more like this. Be open. I can say I have bottled up too much of my emotions and thoughts since we reached Astapor.”

“I agree. Now let us go to sleep,” Lyanna said in a soft tone before readjusting her head upon her pillow.

Elia decided not to say anymore and find her rest. As her eyes closed and her she laid there with her nose buried into Lyanna’s mane of smooth raven hair, she dreamt of her future. A future with more grandchildren, running through the halls of the Red Keep, and playing in the water at Summerhall. And in that future, she still pictured herself without a new husband. _Maybe I will find a Lord or knight to love, but his face escapes me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the most eventful chapter. Targaryens will be in Meereen for awhile, Jon & Rhaenys getting stronger, more Robb POVs coming, and Edric Dayne will appear later in the story. Next chapter is The Young Wolf and the Rose.


	20. The Young Wolf & the Rose

**Robb Stark**

_Damn my uncle. He is a fool._ Robb was cursing himself as well for not foreseeing his uncle’s misstep. Instead of letting the Mountain fall into their trap so they could kill Tywin’s mad dog, his uncle Edmure stormed the Stone Mill with force and won himself some glory, or at least what Edmure thought was glory. _House Tully would have been better served with the Blackfish inheriting Riverrun and the title Lord of the Riverlands._

Robb stood inside a large solar at Riverrun, looking out onto the Red Fork and Tumblestone. The view reminded him how different his mother’s family home was compared to Winterfell. All he could see was blue waters, green forests, and small rolling hills. There was no snow. _The Riverlands probably only see snow in the Winter._

His uncle and the Blackfish had just left the room after he berated Edmure for failing to see his intended strategy to kill Gregor Clegane. The tide of the war was now turning against them. Stannis Baratheon was defeated and now remains at Storm’s End. The Tyrells and Martells had sided with House Lannister. He was still winning every battle, but the victories achieved little. Tywin’s lords and knights were raiding the Riverlands in small numbers that were hard to pin down and defeat.

And now his grandfather, Hoster Tully, is dead. That is why they returned to Riverrun and now Robb needed to plan where his army would strike next. It did not matter how many times he studied a map of Westeros. He did not see a path to victory. He did not have the men or supplies to lay siege to King’s Landing or defeat the Lannister army in a large battle.

There was also the matter of Jaime Lannister escaping with his mother’s aid. He had still not heard anything from Roose Bolton, who he left to garrison at Harrenhal a moon ago. _My mother was played for a fool and now I have to deal with Lord Karstark’s fury._

“My Lord, my Lady,” his squire, Warrick Manderly, came into the solar. The boy was one of Wyman Manderly’s grandsons. Robb thought him to be a capable squire who would make for a good soldier or even knight one day.

“Yes, what is it Warrick?” he asked the boy.

“Riders from Highgarden my lord. Lady Margaery Tyrell is with them,” his squire informed him.

“See that she is escorted here and her men are given quarters if Lord Edmure has not done so already,” Robb ordered the squire who was fast to see to his duties. Robb then turned to his mother, “What do you think she has ridden all this way for?”

His mother looked to be deep in her thoughts before finally looking him in the eyes. “She can only be here for one thing,” his mother said. When he gave her a questioning look, she continued, “Marriage.”

“Marriage?” he responded. _I am promised to another. The Tyrells must know this. Perhaps it is my uncle Edmure they seek to wed to Margaery. A ploy by Tywin to divide us? No, that cannot be it. She would not seek a marriage alliance to divide us while me and my men are here._

“Yes, marriage,” his mother confirmed. “House Tyrell is playing both sides. They gambled with Renly and lost. The Queen of Thorns will not allow her son or grandson to make the same mistake. They fear what will happen when your cousin returns.”

“And what do you think?” he asked. Adding Highgarden to their side, even if a passive alliance, would be more beneficial to his House than a marriage to House Frey. _Winter will come. A marriage to Lady Margaery would ensure food supplies to feed the entire North during Winter. And if Jon returns with his armies, surely, they would move to our side. The Lannisters could not withstand such a force._

“You can’t. You made a vow,” his mother warned him with the same look she gave him as a child.

“Aye. And Walder Frey made a vow to House Tully and House Targaryen. It did not prevent him from exacting a cost from our passing through the Twins,” he responded.

“Robb…,” his mother was about to argue with him more until she stopped herself as she heard voices from outside the solar.

Robb turned his head to the doorway to find his uncle Edmure and the Blackfish walk in. Behind them followed one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen that were not named Targaryen or Dayne. _She is more beautiful than any of the girls I saw at Winterfell._

Her walk was slow and the movement of her hips seductive. _Or mayhaps my eyes are playing tricks on me._ Lady Margaery wore a light blue sleeved dress that was more in line with the designs women in the Riverlands wore. However, he did notice the different cut around her chest. Her breasts were hard to miss. _She did not need her breasts to get my attention._

His eyes locked with her blue ones. She had beautiful, long chestnut hair, a mesmerizing face, and smooth, soft skin. _Or at least he imagined so._ “Lord Stark, Lord Tully. I thank you for your hospitality and allowing me to speak with you,” she said.

“Lady Margaery, what brings you to Riverrun? Has House Tyrell not declared for Joffrey? Are you not concerned we will take you as a hostage?” Robb asked trying to read her face.

“I took you for a man of honor. A son of Lord Eddard Stark. Please accept my condolences for your family’s loss on behalf of House Tyrell,” she said and he answered with a nod. “I came here to speak with you privately.”

Robb looked to everyone in the room and they all made their way outside. His mother was resistant to leaving him with the Rose of Highgarden before he shot her a look that he prayed she would not protest. With reluctance, she was the last to leave, closing the door behind her.

“So, what is it you have come to speak with me about my Lady?” Robb asked as he took a step closer to her.

“It is rather unconventional, but so are these times. I was hoping to find a husband in Riverrun. A husband who is Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell,” she said with confidence.

“You must have heard I am betrothed to another,” he said.

“I have,” she answered.

“And if I were to accept and make you my Lady, can I expect House Tyrell to join House Stark in this war?” He questioned.

“No. House Tyrell will not fight with you, but it will also not fight against you. My father has committed to supplying the Lannisters with food from the Reach, but that is it. When the Targaryens return however, that is another matter. Then my father will fight with you,” she answered. _My mother was right. They are playing both sides._

“And if we were married, could I expect your family’s support to supply the North when Winter comes,” he asked hoping she was given the ability to make such promises.

“Of course. You would be my husband and the North my people. What wife or Lady would I be if I did not do all I could to feed them?” she answered.

Robb was stuck. Marrying Margaery Tyrell presented numerous benefits and it did not hurt he was entranced by her beauty and the way she presented herself. But he also wanted to keep his word and do the honorable thing. _This could be a costly mistake, but I will follow my heart and my head. Tywin Lannister would not hesitate to spurn House Frey in order to ally with House Tyrell. If I am to win, I need to be as smart as Tywin. No, smarter._

“Are you sure you wish to marry the Lord of Winterfell? It gets cold in the North,” he warned her.

“I am sure the Young Wolf will find a way to keep me warm and protected from the snows,” she answered while stepping so close there was little room between them. _Seven hells, she knows how to get to me._

“Aye. Lady Margaery Stark. I like the sound of that my Lady,” he replied trying to hold his smile in order to not look like a bloody green boy. _I have had my share of girls, but this one makes me feel like the inexperienced boy I used to be._

“Aye. It does sound nice,” she mocked him with a faux-northern accent.

“Unless you protest, I will see to it we are married tonight,” he proposed.

“I have no reason to protest. My brother Garlan is still with our guards, but you will see him soon. He will be the one to give me away,” Margaery informed him.

 

As they sat at the dais in Riverrun’s great hall, Robb admired how easily Margaery acquainted herself with the northern lords. He feared the southern beauty from Highgarden would be overwhelmed or disgusted by the boisterous behavior from his men at the tables below. It made him proud to call her his wife and Lady of Winterfell.

He could still recall every moment of their wedding. Robb preferred to marry under the weirwood in the godswood at Winterfell, but they were at Riverrun. He could not say when he would return home. When Margaery was escorted by her brother through the sept, he lost his breath at the sight of her beauty in her ivory silk dress and green and gold maiden cloak.

He could still recall her taste after taking their vows. She was perfect for him and he prayed that the feeling would not change as time passed. Robb knew marriages can sour over time and he hoped true love would form between them. _I hope we come to love each other as much as Jon and Dany love each other._

“Do you regret marrying the Lord of Winterfell?” he asked her as she sat beside him.

“Yes,” she jested with a smile he was so fond of. As she laughed, he moved in to capture her lips and remind himself of what kissing her felt like. “Some of the ladies seem eager for tonight’s bedding ceremony.”

Robb looked over towards a table full of ladies giggling to themselves. “Aye. But there will be no bedding ceremony,” he warned her.

“No?” she questioned.

“No. You think I will let my lords and the riverlords see my beautiful wife? You are mine and no others. And I would hate to break one of my bannermen’s faces on my wedding night,” he said. _I hope she understands I am not jesting. If anyone thinks they will get to take advantage of this night and take liberties with her state of undress, I will end them._

“When does my lord-husband plan on bedding me then?” she asked in the seductive voice she already knew broke him.

“This moment, if my lady is willing,” he answered. He was thankful she accepted and took his hand as they stood from the table. The jeers were loud and disrespectful, but a custom that was accepted. Without running, he led her out of the hall and up towards his room in the castle.

After climbing some stairs and winding through several corridors, he found his chambers guarded by his faithful direwolf, Grey Wind. The direwolf moved aside so he could lead Margaery inside and towards his bed. _Our bed._

Robb moved around the room to light several candles to illuminate the room. When he turned around, he found Margaery staring at him as she let her silk dress pool at her feet. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

His eyes moved from her face to her breasts that were not large, but pleasant on the eyes. His eyes drifted further to her flat stomach and down to her cunt. He was shocked to find she had no hair there and realized she must have had her maids remove it. _Is that what all the southern ladies do? Or just her?_

Without thinking, he pounced on her with his lips on hers and her breasts against his chest. Their tongues did battle as they fell to the bed with her underneath him. Margaery spread her legs and began to thrust into him. Knowing he could not resist, he sought entrance to her wet cunt and felt like she was perfect for him. Sensing he may not last long, he started his hips into her and gently eased into a controlled rhythm.

 

 

**Visenya Targaryen**

As expected, the masters of the Bay of Dragons, formerly Slaver’s Bay, were resisting their rule. Visenya sat in the throne room at Jon’s left and with Daenerys at his right. Rhaenys sat to her left. Jon always sat at the center, but she always took turns with the Queens where they sat. They did not want to signal any weakness or disagreement between them. No Queen held more power than another.

For the past two days, they held an audience with several merchants and ships’ captains complaining of harassment at sea from the masters of Elyria and New Ghis. Goods from their cities in the Bay of Dragons and Qarth were levied with exorbitant taxes as well. They planned to deal with the remaining slavers eventually, but now their plans were going to be accelerated.

“That will be it for today,” Jon ordered the Unsullied below them who escorted all citizens of Meereen who came to speak with their King and Queens. The Unsullied bowed their heads in silent acknowledgement and left the large throne room.

“We cannot ignore them any longer,” Daenerys stated.

“I agree,” Visenya added. “If we let them continue, the violence will spill from the seas to the streets of Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen. They will think us weak.”

“We are to leave Meereen?” Rhaenys questioned. “The peace is delicate in this city. Is it wise for us to lead an invasion?”

“If I may, my Queen. Let me do what I am good at. Send the Second Sons to New Ghis and kill your enemies. I know the city and its people. They are weak. We will take the city easily. They have countless slaves and not enough freemen or sellswords,” Daario Naharis said.

“The Second Sons will take New Ghis on their own?” Jon questioned with a suspicious tone. He had asked many of New Ghis’ defenses and he seemed doubtful. She also doubted it could be done.

“With your leave, I will sail on a trading galley with a dozen of my men and enter the city as sailors. From there, we can find the slaves who will fight with us. They are easy to find,” Daario declared. “Five days behind us, all the Second Sons will arrive by force and we will make sure they walk into the city with open gates.”

“You are quite confidant you will succeed,” Daenerys said. “We have heard their Iron Legions are formidable.” _Free men who fight like the Unsullied. I doubt they lack fear as the Unsullied do._

“Let me take New Ghis for you. I will take the nobles' heads and put them on the city walls. Their army will not matter then,” Daario pleaded. “And if I fail, all you have lost is a sellsword and men who are paid in gold.”

Jon looked to her and Rhaenys before Daenerys. They all agreed to let Daario seek his glory. “Go to New Ghis. If you live, the Second Sons will get a greater share of the plunder from the masters. If the city is taken, leave one of your most trusted men to oversee the city and lead it in our name. You will stay and oversee until you are sure it will not fall apart,” Jon commanded.

“My King, my Queens,” Daario bowed before leaving to go start his own little war.

“And what of Elyria?” she asked.

“I can lead a small fleet and take the island and the city,” Harrold Arryn spoke up, below. “I can lead my men and with a number of your Unsullied.”

“Take the Stormcrows with you,” Visenya ordered him. “We pay them to fight, they need to earn their coin. I hope we do not have to inform you of our wishes for how the city should change.”

“No, my queen, you will not. If I may, I will stay there and rule the city in your name. I will be sure to create a council of freed slaves and free men to rule the city,” Harrold Arryn answered.

“Go then Lord Arryn, we wish you good fortune,” Rhaenys bid the Vale Lord farewell.

Now all that remained in the throne room was family, Kingsguard, Ser Jorah, Missandei, and Grey Worm. These were the people they trusted most and would not hide secrets from.

“My son, when we visited the poor not two days ago, they spoke of trouble in the hills outside Meereen. Men from Mantarys and Tolos come and steal from the smallfolk. Goat herders. Salt and copper miners. All have told me and Elia of the threats they face,” her mother told them.

“It is not a mistake the slaver cities are acting at once and testing your resolve,” Ser Jorah added.

“What about our Dothraki? They haven’t seen a fight for some time. I am sure they are growing restless in Vaes Dothrak,” Daenerys offered the idea. _I want to see these riders fight a real battle. I want to see if their reputation is valid._

“Aye. Mantarys and Tolos will not be able to repel the entire khalasar. Are we in agreement?” Jon asked. She nodded in approval with Rhaenys. “Ser Jorah, go find Rakharo and Kovarro. They will ride for Vaes Dothrak in three days. They will leave some men to protect the hills and take the rest to gather the horde. It is time they prove their strength. Tell them I will be with them shortly to discuss the details of their orders.”

“There is the matter of finances. We are pouring coin into the shelters, food, and clothing for the poor. It should ease in time, but I want you to be aware all the city’s taxes are going into these efforts,” Lady Ashara warned.

“As they should. And if you need more coin, take what you deem necessary from the vault. We took plenty from the Meereenese nobles,” Visenya told Ashara. It felt strange to give commands to a woman she viewed as a mother figure her entire life. Ashara was someone they could trust and so they never concerned themselves with her handling of coin.

“I saw the new ships in the port this morning with Winter. They were painting the sails and readying the ships for their first voyage,” Allyria added.

“Good. I will speak with Ser Jorah later to learn of the progress,” Jon answered. “Cousin, are there any positions or initiatives you wish to oversee? All you need is ask.”

“Thank you, but no. I am helping my mother with the handling of coin and I prefer the free time I have with Winter to explore the city,” Allyria answered. _I hope we can find her the perfect husband and lord._

“If that is all, I think we shall go see our dragons,” Daenerys said to end their time in the throne room.

 

Visenya sat in the grass of the gardens at the foot of the pyramid with Silverclaw curled up around her. Their dragons were now larger than they were and their flames even more powerful. They were still not large enough to mount and fly on them, but she figured that would change in a year’s time. As a child, she dreamed of flying atop the sigil of their House and the symbol of the power of Old Valyria. And now she had three dragons of her own, thanks to Jon and Daenerys. _How will I ever repay them for such a gift?_

While running her hand over Silverclaw’s snout, she felt the heat emanating from her scales and stared into the beast’s eyes. Whenever she looked into the dragon’s eyes, she knew she was building upon their connection and it was understood she would be her rider.

She looked around to find Jon bringing food to Vermithrex while Daenerys was relaxing next to Drogon. Rhaenys sat in the grass before her three dragons, all fighting for her attention. The dragons always fought for attention until it was time to eat. Then they bared their teeth at each other, fighting over the meat they planned to char;

A shadow passed over the ground in the middle of the garden and Visenya found Darkskye and Vyraxes circling overhead, beginning their descent. _Father would have loved to see this. Dragons of our own, flying in the skies._

When the two dragons landed, they crawled over to her, snapping at Silverclaw to make room. The silver dragon did not take kindly to such advances and screamed at the slightly smaller dragons. “Shhh….Leave them be. You have had enough attention,” she cooed at her fierce dragon.

Visenya stood on her feet and approached the two dragons with grace. Slowly, she raised both her hands to their necks. It was always a struggle to sooth them when they were hungry, but today, it did not seem like they were hungry enough to change their mood. Darkskye and Vyraxes were as calm as Silver when she would guard the nursery.

“How do you get those two so calm? Viserion and Rhaegal are always restless,” Daenerys questioned while sitting beside Drogon.

“I do not know. I think it is their nature. Not anything I have done,” Visenya speculated. She honestly did not know the reason.

“It is all the books she read about dragons,” Rhaenys cut in. “She knows more about them than any of us could ever know.”

“That is not true. I know their history from those books you like to make fun of. I do not know how to raise and control a dragon. I think it likely they will never be controlled. And as for the books, they were written by maesters, not dragonriders. What do they truly know?” she replied, looking at Rhaenys who chuckled and shook her head.

Shifting her attention back to her smaller dragons, she pondered the future and what it would look like for the two. _Prince Jon and Princess Daenerys will be their riders. I know it._ The day her children were born was the happiest moment of her life and she would be proud of the day when they claimed a dragon for themselves. _We will need more dragons however. The babe inside me needs a dragon as well._

“I wish you and Rhaenys could have seen them when they were just little hatchlings. So small, you could scoop them up with one hand. It meant the world to see them huff out smoke, trying to find their fire. It was adorable. Even Doreah could pick them up and hold them,” Daenerys reflected. _Silverclaw as small as a cat? That must have been a sight._

“That would have been nice, but I am ready for them to grow. Once they are grown, we can fly. And when we can fly, we can return home with fire and blood,” Rhaenys said with a tinge of determined hate in her words.

“Even when we can fly them, we should still give them time to grow larger. They will not be invincible. Dorne proved that. The Dance proved that. At least, that is what I believe,” Visenya voiced her opinion.

“You are right, we should wait,” Jon said with a smile as they locked eyes. _My northern warrior is now a dragonlord. I used to dream of him standing strong in some battle with Ghost at his side and Longclaw raised in the air, ready to strike down some faceless foe. I hope it never comes to that now. Stay in the air._

 

 

**Allyria Dayne**

She was getting used to life in Meereen, but the heat in the city still got to her. _I never thought about it, but it must be the northern part of me._ Allyria had always been annoyed by sweltering heat, especially in Dorne. During her time at Starfall and the Water Gardens, she went for a swim whenever she had the chance.

Now she was wading into the water of the pool on a terrace connected to the royal apartment at the top of the pyramid. Rhaenys always made sure to invite her for a swim and Allyria always accepted. The pool was small, but it was enough.

As she looked to Rhaenys joining her in the water, she saw her body was beginning to show again. Daenerys and Visenya were the same as they walked behind her into the water with Missandei. _Jon has a talent for getting them with child._

“What is it like? To be a mother I mean,” she asked Rhaenys who swam over to her side along the edge of the pool.

“What is it like to be a mother? Where do I begin? Everything that was important to you and that you loved before is pushed to the side. A child of your own is all that matters really. That and a man’s love. I am terrible at explaining this, but you feel like you would sacrifice everything for a son or daughter. They mean everything,” Rhaenys answered.

“My mother said the same thing,” Allyria replied.

“Why do you ask? Do you wish to have a child?” Rhaenys asked.

“I do, but when I find the right man, unless you need me to secure an alliance,” she offered.

“Stop. You are our family. That will not happen. We are still here because we want the dragons to grow. And when we return, we will not need alliances. We will conquer any who stand with the Lannisters,” Rhaenys said. “Do you miss them? Your family? It must be hard not seeing them for so long.”

“I do. It has been year since I last visited Starfall. But more than anything, I miss Arya and Sansa. Even Robb, Bran, and Rickon. I wish I had time to know them better. I do not even think my brothers know we are related. And Sansa is a hostage in King’s Landing and who knows where Arya is?” Allyria said with sadness in her voice. _Is Arya even alive?_

“You will see them again. I promise,” Rhaenys said, pulling her in for a hug. She was grateful for the gesture but it felt somewhat strange since they were naked as their first nameday. _It is not surprising considering her Dornish and Targaryen blood._

“I hope so,” Allyria said as she tilted her head to see Daenerys, Visenya, and Missandei laughing about something. “Missandei and Grey Worm? Are they together?”

“I am not sure. They care for each other. Their eyes do not lie,” Rhaenys answered.

“Have they…?” she asked.

“I do not know. Can they? The Unsullied? I would never ask,” Rhaenys replied. “If the pillar remains, I am sure Dany will hear of anything between them first.”

“What are you two up to? I saw some suspicious looks from over there,” Visenya asked, swimming to their side.

“Nothing queenly,” Rhaenys jested with a smirk.

“Where were you this morning for the council meeting?” she asked Visenya.

“Jon and I did not get started with our sparring session early enough, so Rhae and Dany said they would handle things,” Visenya responded. _Sometimes I wish I could swing a sword and sling arrows from a bow like my cousin._

“And you are able to do so with child?” she asked.

“For now, yes. But soon I will have to give up such activities again. Jon is pretty gentle with our training anyways,” Visenya said. “You should have your uncle teach you. There isn’t a finer teacher in the world.”

“I am afraid I would make a fool of myself. I am not like you or Arya,” Allyria responded.

“If you change your mind, let me know,” Visenya told her before swimming back over to Daenerys and Missandei.

Allyria spent another hour relaxing in the pool before stepping out and gathering a robe to walk back to her chambers one level below. In her solar, she found her direwolf sleeping. _I promise I will bring you back to the North one day. A wolf is not meant to live in such a warm place._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is setting up future events in the Bay of Dragons and Westeros. Ch 22 will be a big one for Robb Stark and the war in the Riverlands. Next chapter has Jon, Lyanna, & Arya POVs.


	21. The Father He Chose

**Jon Targaryen**

“Again!” Ser Arthur yelled and Jon raised his sparring sword above his head with both his hands firmly gripping the handle. He made sure to keep his eyes on all of his Kingsguard’s movements and not just the knight’s eyes. That was one of the first lessons the Sword of the Morning had taught him.

No matter how many hours he had spent refining his skill with the sword, he still struggled to predict his teacher’s strikes. _I am lucky to have learned from the greatest fighter the world has seen._ Jon found it hard to believe any warrior in history could match the knight from Starfall who had protected him and his family all his life.

Stepping forward to initiate the duel, Jon swung his sword at a curved angle to attack Arthur’s right side. The knight was all too quick to be struck by the first blow and parried the attack. Following his instincts, he proceeded to move his sword again and go for his opponent’s lower leg. When his sword was blocked, Arthur instantly moved to strike at his head. Jon was quick to duck his head and sidestep from his opponent who was too close.

As Arthur repositioned his stance to set a proper angle of attack, Jon took advantage of the small window of opportunity to swipe at Arthur’s wrist. Jon struck the knight’s forearm and tried to move his blunted blade toward Arthur’s throat only to feel his legs taken out from under him.

His back hit the ground with a thud, but managed to bring Arthur down with him. If he had not fallen first, he concluded the spar would have been lost. Lucky for him, his blade was just within reach where he fell and he moved to grab it before his opponent to rest the blade against Ser Arthur’s throat.

“It seems I have failed again to put up a proper fight once again. I am getting too old for this and you have perfected your swordsmanship. I am afraid I have nothing more to teach you my King. It is probably best you find a new knight to spar with. As time moves on, I fear I will only hold you back. A sword needs a whetstone to keep sharp,” Arthur said as they both sat on the ground sweating under the hot sun next to the gardens next to the pyramid. “Perhaps Grey Worm or even Daario Naharis when he returns.”

“Nonsense, everything I know, I have learned from you. And I have told you, when it is just us, call me by my name,” Jon ordered his Kingsguard. It was not right for a king, but Jon still felt like a squire in Ser Arthur’s presence. If the knight told him to do something, he would. _He is the only father I have left. I lost my real father and my northern father in King’s Landing. Ser Arthur is the only one I have left._

“As you say my King,” Arthur responded with a grin on his face. _Damn him._

“May I have your ear for something that has been troubling me?” he asked.

“Of course, my King. As long as you seek my counsel, I shall give it. You know that,” Ser Arthur reassured him. Before he could respond, an orphan boy who had followed them from Astapor and served as the knight’s squire walked over to bring them cups of water. Jon was impressed by the boy. He was one of the few in Essos who were not afraid of Ghost who was laying in the grass under a tree.

“Thank you. It is about our stay here in Meereen. My mind tells me we need to take the hard decision and follow the long road back to Westeros. My heart tells me we should sail for Westeros at once and join my cousin and the riverlords. They fight for a King who does not fight for them,” Jon said with pained thoughts of the news they had received. _Stannis defeated. Houses Tyrell and Martell backing Joffrey and Tywin. Robb and the Blackfish mired in minor skirmishes._

“If there was one thing I learned from your father, my friend and King made the hard choices no matter what anyone else said. Yes, he would listen to his council and appease the lords of Westeros, but when a matter was of great importance, he did what he thought was right. What he knew was right for his House and the Realm. You may have been a boy and a prince a few years ago, but now I see a man and a King. A husband and father. You killed the boy and became the man the Realm will need,” Arthur said. Jon let out a small chuckle thinking back to his time at the Wall with Uncle Aemon. “What is it? Did I say something?”

“It is nothing. Just something you said. Kill the boy. That is what my Uncle Aemon told me years ago at the Wall. The same advice he gave his brother,” he told the knight. _I pray I see Uncle Aemon again before his watch is ended._

“And he was right. As for your decision to stay, I have never ruled anything in my life but I think you and your Queens were right. You have people to rule here and across Essos. And if we were to sail for Westeros, victory is not guaranteed. You are right to be cautious facing Tywin Lannister. But if you fight the wars to come with dragonfire and a Dothraki horde, caution will be of little concern,” Arthur said.

“If I may, I have more to ask of you,” Jon told his childhood hero.

“What is it, my King?” Ser Arthur replied.

“Dorne. What do you think of it? Rhaenys is prepared to wage war on House Martell and any of its bannermen who back Doran’s allegiance with Joffrey. I should like to avoid as much bloodshed as possible and history has shown my family can get trapped in endless wars with the Dornish,” Jon began. His thoughts were plagued with fear of being embroiled in a war against an enemy who knew its lands well and managed to hide well from invaders.

“I can’t speak for all of House Martell, but I do believe Princess Arianne would support your claim if her marriage to Joffrey were prevented. She has always wanted to rule Sunspear and Doran will take that from her. She also considers your wife to be a sister. When we return, you should seek her out and make plans with her. I am sure our Queen has already told you something similar though,” Arthur said.

“She has. Arianne is my preferred choice to rule Dorne. I am afraid the opportunity may not come to pass,” Jon said.

“If it comes to war, House Dayne will stand with House Targaryen. That much I can assure you. And most of the Houses in the Red Mountains will follow House Dayne to your side. The blood of the First Men counts for something,” Ser Arthur promised. _That it does._ “I shall take my leave and resume my guard duties. It appears our Queen wants a word with you.”

As Ser Arthur got on his feet, Jon turned his head to find Visenya walking toward him in her Meereenese white flowing dress that did little to hide her larger breasts and accentuated her growing belly. _Gods she is so beautiful. Maybe even more so when she is with child._

Jon stood on his feet to greet his Queen and pulled her into his arms. She smelled tremendous as he buried his nose into the braided crown atop her head while her head rested against his chest.

“I miss this,” she whispered as he saw Silverclaw flying above, likely sensing her presence.

“Miss this? Embracing me in my sweat stained clothes and running your hands through my soaked hair?” Jon questioned as he noticed her pull her hand from his hair. _My wives are always running their hands through my hair. I would cut it like Ser Arthur if they would not have me killed for such an act._

“No, sparring and learning to fight from you. Now I only get a few months a year to practice and maintain what little skill I have,” Visenya countered.

“You are too modest. You are fine with the sword my Queen. Men should fear you on the battlefield if I allowed it. And as for the little time to train, we can wait to have more children after this one is born,” he said as his hand caressed her stomach.

“I love to wield a blade but I have greater loves in life. You and our children, Jon. I can give up everything, as long as I have you. As long as I have us,” Visenya said, staring into his eyes before standing on her toes to capture his lips. Her mouth was sweet and tasted like fresh oranges. “What were you and Ser Arthur discussing.”

“Westeros, swordsmanship, ruling,” Jon answered not wanting to go into the matter further.

“Do not second-guess yourself. You are a good King. A great King. And mine,” Visenya replied with the brightest smile he had come to love. He had loved to see his sister smile his entire life, but now he saw her and Rhaenys in the same light as Daenerys. Deep down, he knew Daenerys and himself held the deepest connection as they had been together the longest. He made a promise to himself and his sisters he would work to build on their love so his Queens would all feel he gave them everything he had.

“I just wish Aegon or father were here. They were born to be kings. Egg knew how to lead and make the right decision. He would have known how to rule his people,” he said. _I was meant to be a soldier. Not even a Prince of Summerhall._

“You do as well. Our brother would have made for a great King, but you are our King. I know you will not fail. And you are the King our House needs now. A warrior and battle commander who will win the wars to come,” Visenya tried to comfort him with a hand cupping his cheek. _She has always had too much faith in my abilities._

“What do you think our child will be? A Princess? Or a Prince?” he asked hoping to shift the subject of their conversation.

“Both. I feel the same as the first time,” Visenya said with enthusiasm.

“Seven hells, we will not be able to keep up with them if you are right,” Jon replied trying to wrap his head around raising the children he already had.

“I am right. We will be great parents. I know it,” she followed up as Ghost came to their side, nudging his snout against her stomach. The direwolves always did this. They seemed to always know when his wives were pregnant before they even did.

“Back off boy. Go find your own woman,” he ordered Ghost who barely budged as he tilted his head up with his tongue hanging out. _My own wolf doesn’t even listen to me anymore._

“Go on Ghost. Go back up to the children. We will follow shortly,” Visenya commanded. Ghost did as she told, little to his surprise.

“He listens to you, Rhae, and Dany more than I now,” Jon observed.

“Aye. He protects the pack and we are the mothers to the pups,” Visenya said as they began to walk back toward the entrance to the pyramid with Ser Arthur and a dozen household guard in tail.

“I thought our children were dragons?” Jon questioned lightheartedly.

“Both. Dragonwolves,” Visenya jested. “But you are right. They are more dragon than wolf but do not tell our direwolves that.” Jon couldn’t help but laugh. He knew the direwolves would protect their children with their lives as if they were their own.

As they entered the pyramid, Jon escorted Visenya up the long climb to their chambers for an afternoon meeting with their council to go over the city’s affairs and hear from Rhaenys what the day’s petitioners had to say. He hoped for a short meeting with little surprises and no troubles in order to spend time with his family. _A good King does not neglect his family for their own good and the Realm’s. I will not rule forever and my children must be raised to stay loyal to one another._

 

 

**Lyanna Stark**

She already missed her grandchildren. Rhaegar and Arya stumbling around the corridors, mumbling what little words they knew. The little babes who were two sources of joy that put a smile on their grandmothers’ faces. But Lyanna could not deny she relished being away from Meereen in the rolling hills to the north with the wind in her face.

Riding her grey mare through the yellow grass plains and hills, Lyanna cherished being on horseback again. She had not truly enjoyed a good ride since leaving King’s Landing. She left her smooth raven hair unbraided, free to blow in the wind.

Earlier in the day, she had accompanied Ser Jorah Mormont and Ashara Dayne to the newly built silver and gold mines. Apparently, the great families of Meereen were peaceful within the city walls but perpetrated a war amongst themselves for gold and silver deposits nearly twenty years ago. The fighting was always at a stalemate and only her family’s rule over the Bay of Dragons secured a peace. _We are lucky to profit from their division._

They arrived at the mines to find thousands of freed men working the mines. It was dangerous work, but her son made sure the men were paid well and treated with more respect than they had ever seen this side of the world. Besides being the right thing to do, Lyanna knew her son was also winning over the smallfolk who vastly outnumbered the former slavers. _The masters may have the riches, but men win wars, not gold. Or so my brother said._

Initially skeptical of Ser Jorah Mormont, she now found herself trusting the former Lord of Bear Island. Time had changed him for the better. His face looked weathered and beaten. Forced to serve as a sellsword and losing the wife he cared so much for to another man, the world had changed him.

One thing she did not like about the northman was his eyes toward Daenerys. She could tell he loved her. _Thankfully, I also know he will never act on his feelings or voice them to another._ Lyanna knew the man respected her son too much for that and he likely knew where Daenerys’ heart lie.

With Meereen in sight from atop the hill they were cresting with their Targaryen guards protecting them, she glanced over to see Ashara looking as beautiful as ever. Looking over her shoulder to find their men behind them, Lyanna pulled on the reins of her mare to slow down their travel. Taking notice, Ashara slowed her brown mare to stay next to her.

“I have been meaning to speak with you my friend,” she told Ashara.

“My friend? What is this about?” Ashara asking. Lyanna could tell her friend knew a serious conversation about to be broached.

“I feel guilty. I have never apologized to you after all these years. If it were not for my actions at Harrenhal and the events after, you would have not had everything stolen from you. A husband, the man you loved. Allyria’s father. You should have been my brother’s wife. Not Catelyn Stark,” Lyanna said with some distaste for her good-sister. Catelyn was not her favorite person in the world and she was definitely not Ashara. “I know you loved my brother. You still do. I can tell you still mourn for him even after all this time.”

“Lya, this isn’t necessary. I am happy with my life. I love my daughter and would not change anything,” Ashara protested. Lyanna could tell she did not completely believe her words.

“Still, I feel I must apologize. You should have been Ashara Stark, Lady of Winterfell. Allyria should have been a Stark. You should have had sons and more daughters,” Lyanna insisted.

“I will not lie, I wish my daughter had not been born a Sand. I still heard whispers around the Red Keep of her origin despite being legitimized. The worst was her growing without her true father and having him stolen from her just as she got to know him,” Ashara said with a tremble in her voice and unshed tears in her eyes that were not from the wind. “And you are right, I do mourn Ned. I wanted to be mad at him all these years. I am glad we were able to resolve some of the past before the end. I loved him. I still love him. I just pray my daughters’ siblings survive to see her again.”

“When we return, where shall you go? Will you remain in King’s Landing or return to Starfall?” Lyanna asked after a long pause to allow Ashara to gather herself. There were no words she could find to further soothe her friend. _Elia is a better friend than I. She always knows the words to heal the soul._

“I think I will go wherever Allyria goes. If she marries some lord, I want to be there for my grandchildren and not miss them grow. I get enough joy from the little ones here, I can only imagine what it will be like to hold a little one of my blood,” Ashara said with a smile.

Looking back to their guards, Lyanna turned to Ashara, “Let us see if we can leave them behind.” Not even responding, Ashara kicked her heals to urge her mare forward and Lyanna found herself in a race for the city gates.

Just as their horses were beginning to slow, Lyanna reached the city gates before Ashara. _I shall never lose on horseback. If I did, I do not know if my pride could take it._ They made sure to wait for their guards to catch up before entering Meereen. She was not foolish enough to wonder this city alone, ready to be taken hostage or worse.

 

“Rhaegar! Rhaegar! Slow down!” Daenerys yelled as Lyanna entered the royal apartment to find her grandson, the Crown Prince, hobbling toward her direction across the stone floor. Just as he was about to fall, she scooped him up in her arms before pecking him on the cheek.

“This one will give you trouble,” she stated, staring into the boy’s violet eyes. The same eyes her husband held.

“Arya is worse. Just like her namesake. I am sure she will be up to all kinds of trouble in the years to come. No doubt, with the encouragement of Senya handing her a bow and sword. I can see it now,” Daenerys said while taking a seat on the couch with little Senya in her arms. “This one is quieter than her sister as you know.”

“I do. She will make quite the perfect princess at court,” Lyanna replied while making faces at Rhaegar. He seemed to enjoy it because he could not stop giggling.

“You look like you have had quite the day,” Daenerys said, moving her eyes to her windswept hair.

“Aye. It was an enjoyable ride back from the new mines. After you have given birth, you and the girls should go for rides yourselves before riding a dragon becomes all that can excite you,” she suggested.

“We should ride now. The Dothraki ride until they have given birth. We are Khaleesis after all,” Daenerys retorted before laughing.

“I would love to see my son’s face. He is overly protective sometimes,” she reflected.

“It is true, but I know it is because he loves me. I am the luckiest woman in the world. I married my true love who became a King, made me his Queen, gave me children, and more. And he is smart enough to know that I should make important decisions for our kingdom,” Daenerys stated with a bit of a jest. Lyanna knew Daenerys was not arrogant nor malicious with her words.

“I am happy for you. For all of you,” Lyanna said. “You will be great rulers the Seven Kingdoms need. And even better parents. Our House will come back stronger than ever and I cannot wait to see these little ones grow to be strong princes and beautiful princesses.”

“First we have to win back the Seven Kingdoms,” Daenerys responded, letting Princess Visenya grasp her little finger.

“You will. If you can bring dragons back, gather the Dothraki as one khalasar, and conquer half of Essos without them, conquering Westeros should be quick work,” Lyanna said. She knew Tywin Lannister was a dangerous man with plenty of gold, men, and most importantly, a cunning mind. But her son was raised to be a warrior and commander on the battlefield. Ser Arthur and her brother saw to that. And Daenerys and Rhaenys were politically savvy enough to counter Tywin. _But this war will not come to political wits and scheming. It will be won with sword and dragonfire._ Lyanna just prayed the Old Gods would watch over her kin and protect them while House Targaryen bided its time.

“I worry what the northern lords and riverlords will think when we return. We have left them to fend for themselves,” Daenerys replied, bouncing Visenya in her arms.

“You will let them know you had to care for your people here first. You were a Queen, despite whatever you may have called yourself, in Essos before you were the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. The riverlords will follow the Blackfish and he always liked Jon. They both have an affinity for the color,” Lyanna jested. “And as for my countrymen, they will follow Robb and they will fight any army to see a King with Stark blood on the Iron Throne.”

“I hope you are right. We built goodwill with the lords we saw at Winterfell years ago and I would hate to see that lost to the winds. The North will always have a special place in my heart after Dragonstone,” Daenerys said with a small smile on her face. _Of course, she does. It is where she fell in love. She married under the weirwood tree in the Winterfell godswood. Not even I could say that._

“How are you feeling with the babes in your stomach now?” she questioned Daenerys who raised an eyebrow at the word “babes”.

“What makes you think I carry more than one?” Daenerys asked with an incredulous look on her face.

“I do not know, it could be my son has a knack for giving the three of you two children at a time,” Lyanna said. She was content with her two children. She did not understand the compulsion to have so many children. _Perhaps I read them too many stories of Good Queen Alysanne and the reign of Jaehaerys I. I would have stopped at four children if I were one of them._

“It is true. We made a promise to each other at Summerhall to have a dozen little princes and princesses. And you know Visenya would not stand for having any less nor Rhaenys. You may think me mad, but I am glad to carry twins. It is painful for my back but I am eager to have them as soon as possible,” Daenerys stated. _She is mad._

“Well if you do not mind, I am going to take this little one around to find his sister. She is sure to be into trouble. Likely terrifying Doreah,” Lyanna said while placing Rhaegar on her hip to go discover his twin’s whereabouts.

“I wish you good fortune reigning her in,” Daenerys said before turning her attention back to the princess in her arms.

 

 

**Arya Stark**

_The Hound, Joffrey, Cersei, Tywin Lannister, Ilyn Payne, The Hound, Meryn Trant, The Mountain, Polliver. The Hound, Joffrey, Cersei, Tywin Lannister, Ilyn Payne, The Hound, Meryn Trant, The Mountain, Polliver._ She kept repeating her list in her head, over and over again, reminding herself of the people she wanted to kill. Arya clung to the names, scared she may forget them and let those who had crossed her get away.

_I need to find a way to escape. I escaped the Brotherhood Without Banners. How hard could it be to escape the Hound?_ Arya was ready to get off his horse. She hated the man. He served the Lannisters and helped them murder her family. _No, I can’t escape. I need to kill him first._

“Why the face wolf girl? You mad I killed your friend? His bloody fire god brought him back. Why run from them?” he asked her but she refused to answer. _Curse him._ “That’s alright. I know why you left them. The Baratheon boy hurt your feelings. You wanted him to stay with you and marry him.”

“I did not!” she yelled, failing to withhold her anger. _Gendry should have left with me. He is a fool. We could have escaped to Riverrun and found Robb._

“The Dayne boy then. You like the Dornish fucker,” the Hound replied.

“That is not me. That is my sister. I am no lady,” she responded while looking around the rolling green hills spotted with trees. From what she could tell, they were still in the Riverlands.

“I offered your sister to come with me. She refused. A scared little bird,” the Hound told her.

“Liar,” she accused him. _Why is he lying to me? Is he trying to drive me mad before we reach King’s Landing? He would never try to help Sansa._

“Fine, don’t believe me. I saved her life in King’s Landing. Ask next time you see her,” he said. The Hound looked out around them to make sure no one was following them. He continued, “If you see her again. I doubt she will last much longer without me protecting her.” _Protecting Sansa? He has gone mad._

They rode through the countryside, weaving through fields of grass, around small woods, along streams, and over hills of various sizes. It was all starting to look the same and Arya was growing tired of being held as the Hound’s prisoner. _Will they take my head like Father’s? No. I imagine it will be far worse. Joffrey hated me and Visenya more than anyone._

The thought of her cousin made her sad and angry at herself. She missed her idol. Arya loved her cousin, who was kinder to her than anyone in this world besides Jon. It drove her mad that Polliver had her Needle. That was Jon’s gift to her. The only thing she had to remember him by.

_How did I find myself here? Visenya would not have allowed herself to be caught. She certainly would not have lost her sword. She would have made her way through the Riverlands by herself. I need to steal one of his daggers. That is what Visenya would do._

Arya started to examine the Hound’s armor for weak spots and looked for where he kept his weapons. She knew she could not take his sword nor the knife at his hip. _Perhaps the dagger on the back of his belt?_

“Get any ideas girl?” he asked. She realized she had been caught and he knew what she was planning. “No? Good. Do not make me kill you girl.”

Several moments after he threatened her for considering her options of killing him, she found herself looking down at a river with a stone bridge within sight. _We are close. I need to find a way to get away. I cannot be held as a hostage._

“Is that the Blackwater Rush?” she asked.

“The Blackwater Rush?” he asked as if she was the stupidest person in the world. _Have I forgotten the great map of Westeros?_ “Where do you think we are going girl?”

“King’s Landing. To take me to Cersei and Joffrey. To Tywin Lannister,” she answered with a perplexed face.

“Fuck Joffrey. Fuck the Lannisters. Fuck King’s Landing. That is the Red Fork girl. We are near the Trident. I am taking us to the Kingsroad and heading north to take you to your mother,” he said, moving the horse forward.

“But the Kingsroad does not lead to Riverrun,” she said. _I know that much. Any person knew the Kingsroad did not lead through Riverrun._

“Did those cunts not tell you anything?” he asked. She just shook her head, wondering what she was supposed to know. “The whole damn country knows about it. Your uncle is getting married to one of the Frey girls at The Twins. Poor fucker.” _Poor Uncle indeed. Even Daenerys spoke ill of the Freys and she was one of the nicest people she knew._

“Why?” she finally asked. _The Hound is from the Westerlands. His House are bannermen to House Lannister. Why would he bring me to my mother?_

“Gold girl. And lots of it. A highborn lady like yourself will fetch a good price,” he answered.

“I am not a lady!” she yelled, shoving him in the chest.

“No, I guess not. Listen here girl, hit me again and I will hit back,” he warned.

“Why did you leave King’s Landing? Why did you leave the Lannisters and Joffrey?” she asked.

“The King is a cunt and so are the Lannisters. And I do not want to die in that shit city when the dragons come. It seems everywhere I go, I have to deal with some fucker with fire. First the dwarf setting the Blackwater on fire with his wildfire. Then those cunts praying to their fire god. And I thought Beric was one of the smarter lords. The last place I want to be is King’s Landing when that fucker is in flames,” the Hound said. _At least he is honest here. I could see he looked like a scared little girl when Beric Dondarrion lit his sword ablaze._

“Jon would never do that. He wouldn’t burn a city to the ground,” she protested. She knew her cousin. Arya knew he was good and just. _He will be a great King. The greatest Westeros has seen._

“I liked the Bastard Prince, but that fucker has dragons now and when they are grown, I do not want to be around for that,” the Hound said.

“What?” was all she could get out.

“No one knows yet, but a few in King’s Landing. Your cousin has dragons. Ten or twelve of them,” he said. She felt her jaw drop, finding it hard to believe at first. “Now enough talking. I hate talkers.”

Arya decided not to speak up. _Jon and Dany have dragons? I wonder if Visenya and Aunt Lyanna are with him. Hopefully Allyria and Ashara are as well. Dragons…. I hope I see them. Maybe I will ask Visenya if I can fly with her on one. Surely, they would accept me if I was with her. What am I thinking? The Hound is playing me for a fool like Sansa. A stupid girl who believes in honorable knights in shining armor riding off to save a maid._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slow chapter, but the next two are big ones. Next chapter has Robb, Maester Aemon, & Daenerys POVs.


	22. House Targaryen Sends Their Regards

**Robb Stark**

The Twins gave Robb an eerie feeling. The castles were dim and unpleasant on the eyes. Its people even more so. He had hoped the next time he would find himself at The Twins, he would be headed north to Winterfell after the war had been won. Instead, he found himself seeking Lord Walder Frey’s forgiveness in order to gain his support on the planned siege of Casterly Rock. 

After beheading Lord Rickard Karstark for disobeying his commands and murdering the Lannister boys, he had lost the support of House Karstark. Those men needed to be replaced and House Frey was the only House he could turn to. It was not a decision he made lightly, but Robb felt like he did not have a choice. 

The war was slipping into a standstill or defeat at worst. He needed to shift the momentum and the only path he saw was an invasion of the Westerlands. And more importantly, the seat of House Lannister. His mother told him to show them what it feels like to lose what they loved and he agreed. This war had cost him his father, a sister, and his two brothers. 

When they arrived to meet Lord Walder at the eastern castle, Robb braced himself for the most unpleasant apology he would make in his life. Surprisingly, Walder Frey did not exact a heavy toll on him. The old man even complimented his choice of Margaery after laying eyes upon her. _A vulgar compliment that should not have been said in front of ladies, but still a compliment._

Now standing next to his pregnant wife, Robb looked down at her face and thanked the Old Gods for making him so fortunate. He was afraid of the prospect of marrying a Frey girl, and instead he had married the smartest and most beautiful woman he had ever met. Since their first night together, they had fallen in love and shared a connection he had never shared before.

Lord Walder walked past them towards the septon and his Uncle Edmure awaiting his marriage to Lady Roslyn Frey. It was a struggle to hold his laughter when he saw his uncle’s face when Roslyn’s veil was pulled back. Robb nor anyone else could believe the girl was a Frey. She was not ugly. She was pretty by any standard. _Not as gorgeous as my wife, but still desirable._

When Walder took his place across the aisle in the Sept, Robb gave him a look and the Lord of The Twins just shrugged. Obviously, his mother had not seen Lady Roslyn when she started negotiations for their passing at the beginning of the war.

When their vows were complete, Robb noticed how eager Edmure was to claim his wife and kiss her. _The bedding ceremony will come early tonight._ “They look so happy,” Margaery said with a smirk. “Mayhaps you made a mistake and married the wrong woman.” 

“Mayhaps I did,” he jested which earned a shove from his wife. Unable to control himself, he sealed his lips to hers for a brief moment before she retreated. 

“Best we not insult our hosts,” Margaery whispered. 

The sept of The Twins was small and it was filled by himself, his wife, mother, members of House Tully, and the countless Freys. As his uncle walked out towards the great hall in the eastern castle, the rest of the attendants at the wedding filtered out.

With Margaery’s arm locked with his own, he escorted her and his mother back to their tents standing outside the eastern castle of The Twins. Their camp was large and sprawling. It was dark out and the fires illuminated the area. One could smell the pork, chicken, and other meats cooking for the sixteen thousand northerners camped there. Outside the western castle, some five thousand men from the Riverlands pitched their tents. 

While walking towards his camp, Robb noticed the closest tents were those of House Bolton and House Umber. Lord Roose had joined them on the Kingsroad with his men from Harrenhal. Greatjon Umber and most of his men were still following behind, a day’s ride from The Twins. The Umbers here were led by his son, Smalljon.

Further back in the camp, he saw the banners of Houses Flint, Manderly, Mormont, Glover, Hornwood, Cerwyn, and Forrestor. The path to his great tent was short once they were in the camp and he walked in to find his lords waiting for him.

“My Lord, has the bedding already occurred? Did we miss the feast?” Lord Cerwyn jested, earning laughs from the northern lords.

“No, my lords,” Robb answered. “I have come to treat with you. The feast will begin shortly and I expect you to join me and share in the ale.”

“If you can call that piss the Riverlords serve an ale,” Lord Hornwood replied.

“That is why I saw to it barrels of good northern ale were carried into the great hall,” Robb told the men. It seemed to lift their spirits.

“Was Lord Edmure disappointed in his bride?” Lady Maege Mormont asked.

“He was grinning like a fool. She is quite pleasing,” his mother answered the Lady of Bear Island. “A proper lady,” she continued.

“My Lord, if I may?” Roose Bolton pulled him aside from the rest of the northern lords who began discussing the upcoming feast with enthusiasm.

“Yes, Lord Bolton, what is it?” he asked the Lord of the Dreadfort. Robb liked a serious lord, but he sometimes felt Roose Bolton was too serious. He never smiled and implemented tactics Robb thought less than honorable in this war. Several times, he had to intervene and prevent the lord from mistreating prisoners they held. _If he wasn’t such a good battle commander and tactician, I would have removed him from the front lines of this war._

“How long are we for The Twins?” he asked.

“We march for the Westerlands on the morrow,” Robb informed him. “Lord Walder has promised us the numbers for the siege of Casterly Rock. We should have enough speed to reach the Rock before Tywin realizes what we are doing.”

“That is good to hear my Lord. If I may, I would like a seat at your table during this feast. You know I do not partake in the drinks and would prefer not to sit amongst our more fervent countrymen,” Lord Bolton requested.

“Aye. I understand my Lord. You always have a seat at my table. It should be relatively calm at the table with my wife and mother,” Robb answered.

“Thank you, my Lord,” Lord Bolton replied before Robb noticed his squire rushing into the tent.

“Lord Stark, riders from Claw Isle my Lord. They wish to see you,” his squire informed him.

“See them in at once,” he ordered young Warrick.

“Yes, my Lord,” Warrick replied and ran out of the tent to bring in the men from House Celtigar. _What are they here for? It must be a message from Dragonstone._

Shortly after disappearing out of the tent into the darkness, Robb saw his squire walk back in with two men behind him. Both men were stern looking for their age. _They can’t be older than thirty years of age._ Each man was clean shaven and were black of hair. Robb noticed their gorgets were etched with the crab sigil of their House.

“Crystan Celtigar, son of Ardrian Celtigar, and Edwell Celtigar, son of Ardrian Celtigar,” his squire introduced the men.

“What brings you from Claw Isle my lords?” Robb asked the two men with his lords looking on.

“A message from Queen Rhaella, Lord Stark. It is in regards to House Martell and news from Dorne,” Crystan Celtigar, the older of the two stepped forward with a scroll in hand. “I was told to hand this to you personally.”

Robb took the scroll from Crystan and unfurled it so he could read the message. _What could be so important regarding the Martells, Queen Rhaella felt she needed to send riders to deliver a message?_ When his eyes fell to the words on the scroll, he could not believe what he was reading. _This cannot be! Seven Hells!_

Knowing he needed collect himself, Robb tried to calm his nerves and lifted his eyes to the Celtigars who held serious faces. His eyes moved to his lords in the tent and he took a moment to read their faces. “Lord Bolton, you will need to read this. We will have to divert some of our forces from the planned march,” Robb told the man.

He watched Lord Bolton step forward between himself and Crystan to take hold of the scroll. Robb noticed the jerkin on Roose Bolton was slightly thicker than it should have been as he stood before him. As Roose grabbed the scroll from his hands, Robb shifted slightly over to Margaery.

Before Roose Bolton got a chance to read all the words on the scroll from Dragonstone, Crystan Celtigar moved behind the Lord of the Dreadfort. Quicker than anyone he had seen with a knife, Crystan drove a knife through the back of Roose Bolton’s throat. Blood instantly sprayed out of the lord’s neck and he began spitting blood. “House Targaryen sends their regards,” Crystan said into Roose Bolton’s ear before backing away and letting the man drop dead in the tent.

Without even realizing it, Robb saw Smalljon Umber draw his sword moving toward him before having a sword driven through his back, out his chest by Edwell Celtigar. The man was dead and Robb was enraged at their planned betrayal.

Soon, all his lords bared their steel and pointed their swords at the Celtigars. “What is the meaning of this?” Lord Glover screamed.

“Murderers!” Lord Hornwood yelled.

“Withdraw your blades my lords!” Robb commanded. “House Celtigar are friends to the North. Lord Roose and Smalljon Umber planned to slaughter us at the wedding feast. The message from Dragonstone was a warning. Walder Frey has sided with Tywin Lannister.”

“We passed Greatjon Umber on the Kingsroad,” Crystan spoke up. “But do not worry, he was not part of this conspiracy. Now, if we may, there are Boltons and Umbers to kill.”

Robb looked at Margaery to check that she was not too startled next to his mother. Both had looks of shock with Lord Bolton’s blood sprayed upon their dresses. Margaery just shook her head, giving him eyes that told him she was alright.

“My lords, gather your men, we need to…” Robb was cut off at the sound of a howl and then the scream of a man. It was an all too familiar sound. _Grey Wind has attacked a man._ Robb knew then it had begun. _The traitors must have heard the screams in this tent and begun their betrayal._ “My lords, go to your men, kill any Bolton or Umber you find. Warrick, my sword!”

“Our men are outside the camp with a crab sigil. Do not slay them,” Crystan yelled to the lords running out of the tent. “Lord Stark,” he bowed his head slightly before exiting the tent with his brother with their swords drawn.

Grey Wind ran into the tent next with several men in tail. Blood was all over his fur and Robb glanced over his body to make sure it was the blood of men and not his own. “Men, protect my Lady and mother,” he ordered. “Take them outside the camp and keep them out of range from any archers!”

“Robb, wait,” Margaery stopped him before he could rush out.

“I will find you after, I promise,” he told her before kissing her quickly and running to his squire who held his sheathed blade. Robb ran out of the tent, wielding the blade with his right hand, lopping off the head of a Bolton man twenty feet outside the tent. Ten feet to his left, Grey Wind jumped into a man, tearing his face off. Blood already covered Robb’s face now.

Soon enough, flaming arrows coming from the battlements of the castle were landing on the tents. _Idiots. They are only hitting the traitorous Umbers and Boltons._ Not worrying about the castle for the moment, considering the Frey’s were likely hesitant to join the fighting, Robb ran to the sound of clashing steel.

Several Umber men were fighting soldiers from Bear Island. There, he saw Maege Mormont cut down two men and Robb ran to parry a blow that was aimed for her back. The man was a good fighter and Robb was locked in a duel until Grey Wind dove in, snapping the soldier’s leg off. Missing a leg on the ground and screaming, he thrust his blade into the man’s face before moving on.

Two riders from House Glover rode towards him and threw spears in his direction. He turned his head to find two dead men on the ground and he decided to keep moving on through the chaos. Dead bodies were littered around the camp and several tents were on fire. _It could be far worse. I could be at a feast right now, ready for the slaughter. They would kill my wife and unborn child._

Robb moved through the camp for two more hours and gathered his men to form up around the castle. The fighting was intense, but short. His loyal lords outnumbered the traitors. It was his guess, had Walder Frey’s treachery gone as planned, his men would have poured out of the castle in assistance to Roose Bolton.

When his men had formed up and organized for a siege on The Twins, his squire brought him his horse and Robb rode over to the surrounding tree line to find Margaery and ensure she was safe with his mother. As he rode up the hill, he glanced back to find the eastern shore was embroiled in battle.

Near the woods sat his wife and his mother atop horses ready to ride away in case the battle turned for the worse. With them were some fifty men he did not recognize until he saw the Celtigar brothers with them.

“Thank you Lord Celtigar,” Robb said as he moved his horse next to his wife, raising a hand to cup her cheek.

“No thanks are needed Lord Stark. The Lannisters killed my brother and Lord Bolton was allied with Tywin Lannister. My House will kill any Lannister or Lannister ally we can get our hands on,” Crystan Celtigar answered. “Lord Stark, I have another message from Dragonstone.”

“Can it wait? I need to get back to my men and begin the siege,” Robb said.

“My Lord, House Targaryen requests you end the war for now. Ride north and root out the Greyjoys. The Freys will pay in time. Our King is gathering strength and forces across the Narrow Sea,” Crystan answered.

“Fuck that. Walder Frey has betrayed my House and now holds my idiot nephew. And an idiot he may be, he is still the head of House Tully,” the Blackfish protested. Robb could see plenty of blood upon his leathers.

“My lords, if I may?” Crystan urged them to break apart from the rest of the party so he could speak with him and the Blackfish without anyone listening. “This is for your ears only. Word will spread but we are trying to keep it from spreading across the entire realm for now. Our King has dragons. Twelve of them. In a few years they will be grown and that is when the invasion will begin. Queen Rhaella has saved your lives and she is requesting on behalf of House Targaryen and our King that you return to your keeps and gather your strength for the wars to come.”

“Wars to come? We have a war in the Riverlands now. The war is not over as long as I breathe,” the Blackfish stated before looking back across the river. “Go north Robb. Retake Winterfell and your lands. I will cross the river and gather an army at Riverrun. The Freys will not take these lands from us.”

“Are you sure Uncle? I do not want to abandon…,” Robb protested.

“Go, the Freys have Edmure for now and we are not ready for a siege. You cannot win right now as we stand. Go north and make ready for winter and the wars to come,” the Blackfish said. Robb just nodded his head and his uncle turned his destrier to ride off into the night with six of his men.

“Unless you are in need of my men Lord Stark, I will ride back to Claw Isle now. Remember, Greatjon Umber will arrive on the morrow. I pray you are able to convince the lord of the truth,” Crystan Celtigar said. Robb shook the man’s hand, thankful for his arrival.

“House Stark is in your debt, my Lord,” he told the man.

As he watched the bannermen of House Targaryen ride off into the night, Robb turned back to his wife and mother. “Are you ready to see Winterfell?” he asked his wife.

“I am. Hopefully we will be there before our child is born,” Margaery answered.

“I cannot make any promises. We will have to fight our way through Moat Cailin and then I will have to deal with Roose Bolton’s bastard,” Robb stated. _It will be easy to drive out the Ironborn, but the bastard of the Dreadfort knows the land. Will he be at Winterfell or the Dreadfort?_

“How do you propose to take Moat Cailin? Even the Ironborn can defend the castle,” his mother asked.

“I will send a raven to Greywater Watch. Lord Reed and his men will be able to sneak into the castle. They know the Neck better than any,” Robb answered.

When his mother did not reply, accepting his plan, Robb turned his horse and rode toward his soldiers forming around the eastern castle of The Twins. While riding toward the army, he began to think of all the keeps he would need to relieve from the invaders in the North. _Ramsay Snow will pose our greatest foe. But with my army I will outnumber him. Should it come to it, I will call on the mountain clans for aid._

 

 

**Aemon Targaryen**

“We didn’t build three hundred miles of ice wall seven hundred feet high to keep out men. The night is gathering Maester Aemon. I’ve seen it. Its coming for all of us,” young Samwell Tarly informed him. _The brothers in Castle Black think the boy a coward and weak fighter, but his mind is sharp and he tells no lies. Young Prince Jon, no, King Jon now, spoke highly of his friend during his visit several years ago._

“Gilly, you and the babe will be our guests. We certainly cannot send you back behind the Wall,” he said to the wildling girl. It was the first time Aemon had heard the voice of a woman since his great nieces who are now Queens were at Castle Black.

“Thank you, Maester Aemon,” the wildling named Gilly replied, taking her time not to make the mistake of calling him “Master” again. “I can clean and cook.”

“Good. Samwell, fetch a quill and ink. I hope your penmanship is better than your swordplay,” he told the steward he trusted more than any other.

“Miles better,” Samwell answered with the confidence he so rarely heard from the boy’s mouth.

“At last count, we had fifty-two ravens. Make sure they are fed. Every one of them flies tonight,” he said as he could hear Samwell prepare to scribe his words onto the scrolls.

Aemon began to reflect on the poor state the Night’s Watch had found themselves in. The Watch had already been reduced to a few hundred boys, old men, and less than honorable criminals. It was a shadow of its former self if the histories are to be believed. Only three castles remained manned along the Wall and saying they were manned was generous. Now they faced a wildling army led by a former ranger of the Watch.

 _If what Samwell Tarly says is true and Mance Rayder has gathered all the Wildlings, Castle Black cannot defend the Wall alone._ Aemon understood their situation and now he would need to convince the lords of Westeros to come to their aid. _It is unfortunate Benjen Stark is missing, while the Halfhand and Lord Commander Mormont lie dead beyond the Wall._

“Samwell, our first raven is to fly to Dragonstone. Address it to Queen Rhaella with all her proper titles,” Aemon ordered the boy, giving him time to write her titles. Once he heard Samwell stop moving his quill, he continued, “The Night’s Watch requests the aid of House Targaryen and its bannermen. An army of Wildlings marches on the Wall, led by former ranger Mance Rayder. We have fewer than two hundred men at Castle Black and we cannot hold back a force of over one hundred thousand. I urge you send us men to defend the realm. If the wildlings breach the Wall, there will be no one to defend the realm against the Long Night. Samwell Tarly, a brother of the Watch and friend to King Jon, has seen the White Walkers and the Army of the Dead. The wildlings will reach the wall in a year. The realm needs the Watch and the Watch needs the aid of House Targaryen and the King of Westeros. Aemon Targaryen. Maester of Castle Black and brother of the Nights Watch.”

“Do you think they will send the necessary men?” Sam asked once he heard the steward place the quill on the table.

“If Dragonstone does not answer our call, our chances of finding men to join us will be thin,” he told Samwell. “The Dornish do not do well in the snow and while you were beyond the Wall, the Stormlands were defeated. I know King’s Landing better than most and we should be lucky to receive the help of the current King sitting upon the Iron Throne. The Riverlands and North are still at war and the Vale hides behind its mountains. House Targaryen may be our only hope.”

“Jon will come. I know it,” Samwell replied with pride in his friend.

“He is a King in another land with other responsibilities, struggles, and other men to defend. Our best hope is my niece and her army at Dragonstone,” Aemon reflected while trying to think of the best Houses to send ravens.

“I believe in your House, Maester Aemon,” Samwell said. “I wish I could say we could call on my father for men, but I know he would dismiss our pleas.”

“Every lord will expect the northern houses to deal with the wildlings. They have never fought them or even seen a wildling. We will likely stand alone but that does not mean the ravens do not fly Tarly,” he said, knowing the nature of the southern lords and how they think.

“I assume the ravens will carry different words to King’s Landing and the other Houses,” Samwell said.

“You are right Tarly. Ready the scroll for King’s Landing,” Aemon ordered, waiting to hear Samwell ready his quill. “Former Lord Commander Jeor Mormont led a great ranging beyond the Wall and fell with over one hundred brothers of the Night’s Watch. An army of one hundred thousand wildlings marches on the Wall. They will reach Castle Black within a year. We seek soldiers to help defend the Wall and keep out a foreign army ready to invade the Seven Kingdoms. Maester Aemon of Castle Black.”

Aemon waited a brief moment, continuing, “Send a similar raven scroll to the major houses of the Westerlands, Reach, Dorne, and the Vale. Mention the Army of the Dead in the ravens sent to the northern Houses, riverlords, and stormlords. And pray Tarly we find some honorable lords who believe our ravens and are willing to risk their men.”

After another hour or more, Tarly had finished scribing and readied the ravens for their flights south. Aemon heard one after the other flap its wings, seeking flight from Castle Black in the frigid air that brought a chill to his old bones. _I will not last many more years if not months. I need to speak with my nephew or send Samwell to warn him of the threat to the Realms of Men. Only Jon and his Queens can stop the Dead. My House must turn its gaze from King’s Landing and turn its focus to the North, beyond the Wall._

 

 

**Daenerys Targaryen**

“My sweet little prince,” she cooed at her newborn son held in her arms, wrapped in a light blanket due to the heat in Meereen this day. Unlike his brothers, Aemon possessed all the natural Valyrian features one expected from a Targaryen. “You will grow to be as wise as your namesake and as valiant as the Dragonknight.”

Prince Aemon was Daenerys’ easiest birth to date, along with his twin sister Naerys who also had violet eyes and silver hair. She felt thankful for having another pair of babes even if it was becoming overwhelming. The responsibilities as Queen of most of Essos and being a good mother by her standards were clashing. Whenever she left the nursery every morning to see petitioners in the throne room, guilt wracked her soul.

 _I have a duty to my people, but also carry the duty and love of a mother for her children._ Jon was always quick to step in and remind her he would see to the daily ruling of Meereen and their other holdings. One would be mistaken if they were to assume her husband, her King, was avoiding his own responsibilities as a father. She knew better. _I can see the pain in his eyes every time he leaves us in the morning._

Across from her sat Visenya and Rhaenys nursing their new babes. Visenya bore a boy named Brandon who reminded her of little Rhaegar with his eyes and raven curls. Her baby girl, Sansa, held the typical Valyrian features like Naerys. Rhaenys gave birth to two babes who also had wisps of silver hair on their heads and bright amethyst eyes. Their names were Valarr and Daenys. Valarr was a loud babe and seemed to enjoy crying whenever he was not held by his mother. Daenys on the other hand was a quiet babe who seemed to sleep more than any babe she had ever encountered. _She was properly named._

If it weren’t for Lyanna, Elia, and Ashara, Daenerys did not know how they could pull off raising the little ones. Allyria also helped and Doreah still served well as a handmaiden, but Irri left with Rakharo and Jhiqui with Kovarro. Doreah suggested finding new handmaidens to help take care of the children, but Daenerys dismissed the idea immediately. _It is hard to trust anyone in this city._

Lyanna and Elia were doting upon the eight other babes on the other side of the nursery with Doreah. _I wish Mother was here. Though she may scold Jon for having so many children._ In the days after the babes’ birth over the past fortnight, Daenerys wondered if she should not hold Jon to his promise of having a dozen children. Allyria and Doreah even had trouble remembering which babes were who occasionally. Herself, Visenya, and Rhaenys always knew. They could not forget their children’s faces.

“Have you three ever thought of taking a break from making children?” Lyanna jested while still looking down at Eddard in his crib. Her boy could now walk but for now his grandmother kept him in his crib so a slow chase did not occur around the room. _Doreah must be chasing Rhaegar and Arya around here somewhere._ Daenerys had seen Jon chase their oldest around as they screamed “papa” and “dragon”.

“I have not grown tired of them yet,” Visenya beamed at her babes in her arms. “They are the greatest little things. You know that mother.”

“I know,” Lyanna answered before continuing to utter nonsensical words to the babes who seemed to like her faces and voice.

“Did you hear Ser Jorah earlier?” Rhaenys asked.

“Yes, four city guard,” Daenerys answered after looking up from Aemon to speak to Rhaenys.

“Sons of the Harpy?” Visenya asked. Daenerys nodded silently. “What are we going to do?”

“Jon commanded the Unsullied to travel in groups no smaller than five,” she told her. “But that will not be enough. This is just the beginning. Three attacks now. They are starting to grow bold.”

“They are supported by the noble families no doubt,” Rhaenys followed up with a scowl on her face. “If we take a few more of their heads, they may think otherwise about such killings.”

“We cannot prove they are behind this,” Daenerys answered. “If we start punishing men without evidence, we are no better than butchers.” Rhaenys gave her a glare after the comparison. _I understand the urge. I fight it myself._

“Daario Naharis and the slaves of New Ghis killed all their masters. If they continue with the killings, the nobles of Meereen should face the same fate,” Rhaenys responded.

“Enough with this,” Visenya said. “I do not want these dark words uttered around our children.” _I love our children, but they are small and do not understand._ She couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

“Did you hear the news from Westeros?” Daenerys asked Visenya and Rhaenys. The looks on their faces told her they were not around when a soldier from Dragonstone came with news from their homeland. “Your cousin married Margaery Tyrell at Riverrun.”

“House Tyrell has declared for us?” Visenya asked.

“No, but promised they will upon our return. They are playing a dangerous game, placating each side,” Daenerys said.

“They will side with who they think can win. When we arrive with our dragons, they will side with us and Olenna knows it. Margaery would have married Joffrey if they expected him to win,” Rhaenys replied.

Daenerys looked back down at her hungry son and began to feed the eager babe. It was not a pleasant thing to feed her children, but she was determined to do it nonetheless.

When Aemon was fed and fast asleep, Daenerys took him to his crib once Missandei had come to retrieve her. They were to visit the site of the murders of the city guards. The men were freed slaves and Daenerys had the idea to visit the area they patrolled to show the people they cared.

It was a long walk down through the pyramid to the awaiting wheelhouse readied to carry them through the streets of Meereen. Ser Oswell and Ser Arthur sat atop their horses ready to escort them with their household guard and some fifty Unsullied.

The trek down the streets was slow and attracted plenty of attention. Whenever they ventured from the pyramid, the freed people of Meereen lined the streets yelling Mhysa from the alleys, doorways, and windows of buildings. She hated not being able to ride a horse, but she was still tired from giving birth and Jon insisted they ride protected through a city with countless nobles who wanted them lying on the street as a fresh corpse.

It felt like near an hour for them to reach the square where the city guard were killed by the Sons of the Harpy. After their men had secured the area, she stepped out to cheers from the smallfolk with the other Queens. Usually, she would wave, but this was not a joyous occasion.

Grey Worm led them to the homes of each man killed. Each home was within short walking distance and each family they met were grateful for their visit. _No matter how grateful they may be, we cannot give them back what they lost._ Visenya made sure to give each family several months’ worth of food.

On the ride back to the pyramid, Daenerys felt tired and just wanted to be back with her children and husband. “I thought Jon was supposed to join us,” she finally said, looking out to people waving at them along their path.

“I asked Ser Arthur and he said Jon was travelling to the harbor to inspect the newly built ships,” Visenya answered. “I guess it took longer than expected.”

 

“My Queens,” Jon called behind them as they stood under the moonlight on the terrace connected to their bedchamber. It had been an hour since supper and they had just put the children to sleep for now. She felt his member against her ass as she leaned back into his hard chest, seeking his warmth. Not feeling is arms around her, she realized he was pulling Rhaenys and Visenya in for warmth as well. “Let us get back to bed.”

“I do not wish to make love tonight,” she responded. It was rare she would reject him, but she had just given birth and was not ready to start again.

“That is not what I meant. My Queens are tired and should find their rest. And that starts with getting some sleep,” he said before kissing the nape of her neck. “I will check on the babes tonight and get them back to sleep. And all three of you will stay away from your queenly duties for the next few days. I will handle it all for now.” Part of her wanted to kiss him and thank him. The other wanted to protest and take part in ruling.

“Aye. That sounds good,” Visenya answered before walking back inside toward their bed.

Rhaenys pulled her away from staring out at the sleeping city with Jon towards their chamber. As Daenerys slithered beneath the sheets, she found Visenya already asleep. She snuggled in behind Visenya with Jon wrapping his strong arm around her stomach with his chest flush against her back.

She settled into the comfort of their soft feathered bed, ready to close her eyes and recover from a long day. _It seems the days are longer as a mother._ And now a mother of six, she could attest the energy required to take care of them and rule a city could only be had with more sleep than she was provided every night. _On the morrow, I will speak with Lyanna and Elia. Mayhaps I can rely on them more._ Before she could plot more of the next day in her mind, sleep took her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there it is, Robb lives but the war is essentially lost. The Blackfish will return to Riverrun and wage irregular warfare against the Freys and Westerlands. Next chapter is the named Retaking Winterfell & Arianne's Revenge. POVs from Robb, Arianne, & Jon.


	23. Retaking Winterfell & Arianne's Revenge

**301 AC**

**Robb Stark**

It took some time to reach Winterfell, but Robb had finally made it back to the seat of his House with his pregnant wife, mother, and sixteen thousand northmen loyal to him. His army had set up camp around Winterfell a fortnight ago with another four thousand men from the mountain clans who answered his ravens. The journey from The Twins to Winterfell went smoother than he had expected.

The Ironborn still held Moat Cailin when they reached the Neck. Robb made sure to send ravens to Lord Howland Reed at Greywater Watch to seek his assistance. The decision was obvious and proved invaluable. Lord Reed met Robb and his army on the Kingsroad before Moat Cailin. The lord told him a small band of Ironborn held the crumbling castle and his men would take the castle in the middle of the night. House Reed knew the swamps and marshlands better than any.

Moat Cailin fell just as Howland Reed promised. Under the cover of darkness, his men traversed the seemingly impossible terrain and scaled the walls. They were quick and silent as they moved through the shadows, killing the men sent by Balon Greyjoy. Eventually, one of the crannogmen signaled the main gate to Moat Cailin was undefended and Greatjon Umber led two hundred men down the Kingsroad to storm the castle. Not a man was lost as any who were on guard duty at the southern edge of the castle were already slain.

Once the northmen, mostly Umbers and Manderlys, had entered Moat Cailin, there was little left for them to do. Robb was told they only killed some thirty men who remained alive. No prisoners were taken as expected. Robb knew his men were exacting revenge for the Ironborn invasion of defenseless lands.

Upon leaving Moat Cailin, Robb left the castle to Howland Reed and charged his House with defending the Neck from any southern invaders. Before he left, Lord Reed pulled him aside to let him know his son, Jojen, and daughter, Meera, had left for Winterfell to retrieve his brothers. Unfortunately, the Lord had not heard from his children and had no idea if they successfully retrieved Bran and Rickon from Theon or Ramsay Snow.

It was a cold and wet morning, with a slight fog rolling over the hills surrounding Winterfell. Robb awoke in his tent next to Margaery whose belly was full with their child and he was expecting the birth to come soon. Under three layers of furs, Margaery still clung to his warmth. _She will need to get used to the North. It is not even winter yet._

Robb slipped out of their furs and walked over to his trunk with his clothes. Slowly, he began to put on his breeches and his gambeson atop multiple shirts for warmth. He would go to his squire after to get his armor on. Today was the day they would begin the assault on Winterfell.

“Wait, do not go,” Margaery said just as he moved the tent flap to slip out. He turned around to find his naked wife sitting up in their bed with her full breasts peaking just above the furs. With everything he had, he tried to fight the urge to jump back under the furs with her and make love to her before battle. _This could be the last time I see her._

“I must. You know I have to do this,” he answered, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed. He cupped her cheek and caressed it with his thumb before leaning in to kiss her one last time. “I love you.”

“I love you,” she whispered before he stood and made for the cold air outside their relatively warm tent. Just as he reached the edge of their tent, she continued, “Come back to me. To us.”

“I will,” he replied before pushing his way out the tent and into the middle of their camp. The sun was just coming up and Robb made for the command tent at the center of the camp a few dozen paces away. Entering the largest tent in the camp, Robb saw his squire waiting for him and silently signaled the boy to come over with the armor.

After his full battle armor was adorned, he mounted his horse and led his awaiting men from the camp to the battle lines that were beginning to form up around the walls of Winterfell. Riding past the rows of men, ready for battle, Robb looked at the different banners fluttering in the wind. There were many Stark banners at the center along with the roaring giant on flame red banners of House Umber and the merman on blue-green banners of House Manderly. Further to his left, he saw banners for Houses Liddle, Hornwood, Marsh, and Mormont. To his right, he saw the banners of Houses Cerwyn, Flint, Glover, Blackwood, and Ryswell.

At their center, they had constructed a battering ram which was lined up to the main gate. To his left, they he saw their newly constructed siege towers made of ironwood. Three stood, one hundred feet apart from each other. Another two stood on their right. Robb knew the weaknesses of Winterfell while the Bolton bastard did not. He knew he would have to concentrate his forces toward the main gate to bide their time.

Five hundred men were left to guard the tents and ride out to the surrounding lands to scout for any potential foes that looked to attack them unawares while laying siege to Winterfell. Eight thousand men formed the center of his host that would attack the walls to the left of the main gate. Another three thousand were to attack the walls to the right. Along his left flank was another formation of some seven thousand men attacking with the siege towers.

The rest of his men were to wait for his signal at the rear. Robb hoped the bastard and his Karstark allies, led by Harrion Karstark, would take the bait. It was believed nearly one thousand men held the castle. A large number of Karstark men had already deserted Harrion once they had heard of his forces coming back north.

“Are our men ready, Lord Umber?” he asked Greatjon as he rode up next to the Lord of Last Hearth. Robb was thankful for the man’s loyalty and rage upon hearing of his son’s betrayal. Robb feared the man would seek revenge for his son, no matter what he had done. Now Last Hearth would pass on to a young boy, Ned Umber, when the time came.

“Our men are ready to kill these treasonous whores my Lord,” Greatjon answered with a grin showing he was ready for battle.

“Sound the horns!” Robb yelled back to the horn blowers standing behind him. As soon as the horns blasted in the air, the rows of northmen began their slow march toward the imposing grey stone walls of Winterfell that were one thousand feet away. Robb knew pushing the siege towers was a difficult task, but his men got it done. They moved slowly, but they would make it. Even if the towers failed to breach the walls, it was not their main goal.

A few minutes after the slow march began, his men entered the range of the archers atop the walls and the rain of arrows began. The great shields along their front lines protected the men and he could not see any fall. _That does not mean none will fall. They will._ Slowly, Robb began to see shields collecting arrows and more arrows bouncing off the shields held over his men’s heads.

“Knock! Aim! Loose!” he heard Lord Hornwood scream to the archers in his army that stood four rows back from the front. Their volleys were sent to and over the walls. Robb saw several men struck and die along the battlements lined with the flayed man and white sabled sun banners of the Boltons and Karstarks. _I will see every one of these traitors beheaded and their heads placed on spikes._

The lines kept pace with the siege towers and after the consistent barrage of arrows littered their shields, Robb noticed the Boltons begin to slow their rate of fire. _They are weak on provisions! Or could this be a trap?_ “Men! Faster. Move Faster!” he screamed. The hundreds of men around him voiced their approval, rattling their spears and swords against their shields.

At his command, the vanguard sped their approach as he dismounted his horse and took a shield to join the men within arrow range. Peering up through the small gap between his shield and the soldier’s in front of him, Robb saw the siege towers were within ten feet of the walls. Looking to his right, he saw the battering ram being wheeled down the path toward the gate. _If we are lucky, they will not have oil and pitch to burn the ram._

After several moments under the cover of shields, Robb heard the screams atop the walls and looked up for a brief second the find the first siege tower reaching the wall with men hacking at each other with sword and axe. _Wait for the second tower to reach the wall._ The next thing he saw, the siege tower to his right on the other side of the gate reached the wall. _Now!_ “Attack the gate!” he yelled.

The men pushing the battering ram went as fast as they could and moments later reached the gate. Arrows rained down on the covered ram on wheels. Stone were being lobbed to no affect. Lord Glover saw to it the ram was protected with strong wood that would withstand all but a fire.

The constant barrage of arrows had seemed to dissipate as the fighting along the walls of Winterfell intensified. Men were starting to drop at a rapid rate along the walls. Robb knew the Boltons and Karstarks did not know how to defend Winterfell and the average man likely feared a host outnumbering him twenty-to-one.

“Lord Umber! Do you have this under control?” he yelled to the tall, old man running over to the main gate.

“Yes! Go before these cunts realize!” the man screamed.

Robb felt confidant in his lords and soldiers. Turning around, he retreated to the rear with his squire and five Stark men. They ran as quickly as possible to their waiting horses. Robb mounted his black destrier and rode off with his Stark men around the rear guard toward the east side of the castle.

After a few minutes of riding, he found the five hundred men waiting for him to assault the wall along the godswood. Before he reached them, he raised his sword and pointed to Winterfell. The men followed his signal and ran to the walls with ladders.

Once reaching the wall, archers took out about five men standing guard, looking for an attack from the east. Rushing to surprise the enemy from within the walls of Winterfell, Robb followed the first three men up a ladder, facing no resistance. They ran quickly to the steps leading into the godswood. Robb led the men through the trees and into the courtyard just outside the Godswood. From there, they weaved their way through the keep and found a full host of men at the main gate fighting off his army.

The archers who followed him over the walls loosed their arrows at the men atop the main gate. When they hit the ground, many of the men in the yard turned their heads in surprise. Robb was the first to bury his sword into the neck of an unsuspecting Bolton soldier holding a spear.

Winterfell had turned to chaos as the men on the ground were coming at him one by one. The first came with a battleaxe and Robb dodged the man’s strong, but slow strike. Taking his sword, he cut the man down at the knee and buried his blade into the weak spot at his armpit. Moving on, he removed a man’s arm lifting a sword to cut down a Stark soldier.

With his face now covered in blood, Robb took a brief moment to swipe some blood near his eyes with his glove. Looking around at the bloodshed, Robb knew they were going to win. Bolton and Karstark men were falling all over the yard and atop the wall. The moment he heard the battering ram breach the main gate, he found the Bolton bastard ordering two of his fleeing men to fight on.

Robb ran toward the bastard without thinking and saw him turn toward him with a bow in hand. As the man reached for an arrow, Robb lifted his sword and cut his arm in two, not giving him a chance to kill any more northmen loyal to House Stark. The bastard of the Dreadfort now laid in the mud before him bleeding out.

Knowing he had betrayed his family and possibly killed his brothers, Robb started beating the man with his bare fists. First, he broke his nose, then attacked his cheek bones and jaw, and soon lost all control, not knowing where he was hitting. Ramsay Snow was spitting out blood until he was taking the punches with no resistance and laid there, lifeless.

His arms were growing tired and his swings were slower than when he started. It wasn’t until he felt a hand pull on his shoulder and he turned his head to find his squire, Warrick, pull him off Ramsay Snow. He looked around to find his army now controlled Winterfell and over a thousand men were staring at him beating the bastard to death.

Finally realizing their victory, Robb inhaled the cold northern air and looked around at his men who were silent. He picked up his bloodied sword on the ground and raised it in the air to the cheers of his army. _How many men did we lose in this battle? How many died at the hands of the Ironborn invasion? Hundreds? Thousands? Thousands died in the south, never to return to their families._

“Men!” he yelled to gather their attention. “You have won a great victory this day. You helped me take back Winterfell that has belonged to House Stark for thousands of years. I will be forever grateful. But our war is not over. We still need to take back Deepwood Motte and the Stoney Shore. There are more Ironborn to kill.” This earned the cheers and goodwill of his men.

“When the time comes, I will ask you to fight with me again. When our true King returns, we will stand with House Targaryen and kill every Lannister who has spilled northern blood. Will you follow me into battle again?” Robb asked hoping his call for resistance to the Greyjoys and Lannisters would be answered.

He grinned as his army became more raucous, screaming for the heads of the reavers and rapers from the Iron Islands. They screamed for the deaths of Tywin Lannister and Joffrey Baratheon. Robb feared his army would never march south again, but now he knew this great victory earned their respect and trust in House Stark.

“Warrick!” he yelled over to his squire who came running over in his ill-fitting armor that was covered in blood. _If we were in the South and I a southern lord, I would knight him._ “Retrieve my wife and mother.” The boy turned to walk away. “Warrick!” he yelled again. Continuing after the squire turned around, “You fought well today.”

The Manderly boy nodded his head with a smile and ran to a horse to go find his family to escort them into Winterfell. Robb saw men removing Bolton banners already and replacing them with Stark banners. Now the slow process of cleaning up the battlefield began. They would have to burn the dead and do their best to wash the blood off the walls.

“Lord Umber!” he called to Greatjon from across the yard. “You have command here my Lord. See to it the bodies are burned and the siege weapons destroyed. Choose who you think appropriate to lead such tasks. And make sure the men are well fed and have plenty of ale when night comes.”

“My Lord, Winterfell will be spotless come morning and our men shall be pissin’ themselves come nightfall,” the old lord answered before turning to his men, barking out orders.

 

“What do you think?” he asked, staring at his very pregnant wife looking out their window in their chambers. _My father’s chambers._ Robb was still getting used to the idea of being the Lord of Winterfell. Seeing his things moved into his parents’ former chambers really struck a chord within him. He never thought this day would come so early.

“I love it. And I cannot wait to see little Ned Stark learning to ride and swing a sword from his lord father,” Margaery answered as her gaze turned from the window to himself. She was still wrapped in her heavy fur cloak, despite the warmth inside the great keep. She was still a southern lady, unacclimated to the cold winds and heavy snows of the North.

“You are sure?” he asked.

“I am. Call it a mother’s intuition,” Margaery replied as he moved to wrap her up and share her warmth. When she looked up into his eyes, he leant down to kiss her. “Why isn’t my lord husband with his men celebrating his great victory?” she asked when he finally let her soft lips go.

“It doesn’t feel like a victory. No one knows what happened to Bran and Rickon. Arya has been missing for two years and Sansa is still in King’s Landing,” Robb answered with heavy heart. “And there is still more fighting to do. The Ironborn still have Deepwood Motte and occupy other lands in the North.”

“I am sorry. It was foolish of me to say. Sometimes I get lost in our happiness for our child and our future. I am sure your brothers are out there safe somewhere. Surely the Reeds found them,” Margaery said, trying to soothe his fears. _Bran and Rickon are likely dead, along with Arya._

Robb thought of what he had heard from those that remained at Winterfell under Theon and then Ramsay. His brothers disappeared and then Theon burned them when he had caught them. _That does not make sense. Why would he kill his most valuable hostages? He likely murdered some innocent boys from the lands surrounding Winterfell._ Robb also thought about Ser Rodrik Cassel and Maester Luwin losing their lives because he trusted Theon like a brother.

“I hope you are right. They are just boys,” Robb said thinking about his little brothers. _Hopefully Hodor is with them. No one has seen him since Ramsay took Winterfell._ “Come here,” he said as he pulled her over to their fur covered bed.

“Promise me you will stay to see our son born,” Margaery urged him as she settled underneath the heavy furs with her head lying on his chest. “I know you are the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, but Deepwood Motte and the Stoney Shore can wait a bit longer.”

“Aye. I promise. I would not want to be anywhere else,” he told her as he rested his hand on her stomach. Robb knew his men needed time to recover from the day’s siege and it would be some days before they could even march to the keep in the Wolfswood. Margaery was due in the next fortnight if everything went well and he could wait. Lord Glover may not like the delay, but with a well-rested army, that would take back the seat of House Glover with ease. _Considering their recent losses, the cowards may retreat back to the Iron Islands without a fight._

“Good. I do not know if I could be here without you. Your mother is quite intimidating,” Margaery said with a cheerful tone. His mother did not approve of breaking his word to Walder Frey and she had yet to completely warm up to the idea of Margaery being the new Lady of Winterfell. _Hopefully that changes when she is the mother of my children._

“Do not mind her. After what the Freys have done, she will no longer resent you being my lady wife,” Robb answered. Initially he blamed himself, thinking Walder Frey acted in revenge. But the more he thought on it, he suspected Walder Frey would have betrayed them regardless of the betrothal being intact or not. “Soon, you will give her northern grandchildren and the past will be past.”

“When do you think the real war will begin? When your cousin and House Targaryen return to reclaim the Seven Kingdoms?” she asked with a bit of trepidation on her lips.

“I am not sure. A year? Perhaps more. But when they do, I will call the banners and will not return to Winterfell until I have Joffrey’s head,” he vowed. It pained him to abandon the war in the Riverlands, but he knew it was the right decision. The North had been overrun, Winterfell taken by disloyal men, and the war with the Lannisters had become unwinnable.

“When you do, I will send a raven to Highgarden. My father may resist, but I promise my brothers will fight with you. They will bring an army from the Reach,” she promised him. _I hope she is right. Mace and Loras could ruin such plans however._

 

 

**Arianne Martell**

_Curse my father and Quentyn. They have taken Sunspear from me and sent me here to wed a boy. Joffrey is no King. An evil bastard who will try his cruelty on me in time. I will not let it come to that._

She sat before the looking glass in her room in the Red Keep, seeing her reflection and that of the handmaidens fixing her hair. The girls were putting her hair up in the style of the ladies in King’s Landing. Arianne thought it looked ridiculous on her. She much preferred her smooth, wavy onyx hair falling down her back without any braids or curls.

As she stared at her reflection, she found herself playing with the ruby on her neckless lying just above her breasts she was sure Joffrey was impressed by. _Should tonight be the night? Why not sooner?_ Hearing the door open to her chambers, her hand let go of the ruby neckless and she turned in her seat at the displeasure of her handmaidens hard at work.

“You look beautiful, Princess Arianne,” her Uncle Oberyn said with a large smile on his face with Ellaria Sand at his side. “Leave us,” he commanded the girls who were quick to comply.

“I hate this. What was father thinking? He will not get a daughter for a Queen. Only a widow to a dead usurper,” she started once the spies had left her guest chambers.

“He was thinking about giving Dorne to that weak brother of yours,” Ellaria answered. _She speaks true no matter how much I hate it. Quentyn is not meant to rule._

“Enough. It is my niece’s wedding day,” Oberyn stopped Ellaria. “We have come to wish you well my Princess, soon to be Queen.”

“I do not wish to be Joffrey’s Queen. I will not stand with the very family who murdered Aegon, who wants to see Rhaenys dead. I will not give them the satisfaction to see House Martell chained to their side. I will…” Arianne raged, just thinking about how the Lannisters conspired with Viserys to kill her cousin.

“Shhh. We will have our revenge. I promise, but not now. Not today,” Oberyn knelt before her and grabbed her hands before leaving a peck on her cheek. “You will still be the Princess of Dorne and Rhaenys will be our Queen. But not today. Today we must play our part and plot our revenge against the lions.”

“You promise me?” she asked.

“Have I ever lied to you my niece?” he asked and she shook her head knowing she could trust his word. Her uncle had never betrayed her nor lied to her in her life. _He will see we get revenge for Aegon._ “I will be waiting for you at the Great Sept to give you away. Try to smile for the boy and make the marriage work for now.”

“I will,” she promised before turning back to her looking glass as her uncle and his paramour left her. _Seven hells! I’ll have to bed Joffrey. It will be disappointing no doubt._

Her ladies-in-waiting and handmaidens escorted her from her chambers when the time came. She wore a beautiful purple dress with gold flowers sparsely covering the silk. Arianne could not lie to herself, for the dress complimented her beauty and olive skin. As they made their way through the corridors past numerous soldiers from the Westerlands and people working in the Red Keep, she realized there would be even more outside in the streets of King’s Landing.

Once they reached the court yard outside Maegor’s Holdfast, Arianne took her seat in the waiting wheelhouse pulled by two white horses. Ladies Gwyneth Yronwood and Ella Vaith were quick to join her. The Yronwood girl was a fool who could not shut up about the wedding for the past fortnight. Arianne much preferred Ella, who was a beautiful Dornish lady with smooth black her like her own and a body men desired. Ella was no maid and she felt she was the easier one to deal with. _Gwyneth still thinks me a maid._

Riding out through the gates of the castle within the city, she peered out the wheelhouse to find the smallfolk lining the streets, cheering her name. They also cheered for Joffrey. _Curse them all. They cheer the family who murdered the King that improved their lives more than any King in a century._ She was glad Rhaenys was not here to see this. It turned her stomach and she was not even a Targaryen. _Perhaps Rhaenys will burn them all to ashes when she returns._

It was slow going from Aegon’s Hill to Visenya’s Hill. The Lannisters made sure to make a spectacle of this royal wedding and pull on the heartstrings of the people. When they finally reached the stone steps before the entrance of the Great Sept of Baelor, Arianne stepped out of the wheelhouse for all to view. The cheers were loud and she felt like everyone in this city was happier for this wedding than she was.

When she climbed the steps with her handmaidens lifting the ends of her dress, she found her uncle waiting for her. He gave her a slight smile as he took her arm to escort her to Joffrey and the High Septon.

The sept was full and all the eyes were on her as she walked down the aisle. Much like her Targaryen kin, Arianne did not care for the gods or the Faith’s favor. She did not care to visit, much less pray at any sept. While thinking on the matter, she figured the only times she ever visited septs were during weddings. _Now it is my own._

As Oberyn brought her up the steps inside the Great Sept so all could see, she laid her eyes on Joffrey. He held his annoying grin and unearned confidence she detested. He was wearing a gold doublet and black breeches with finely polished boots. _I am surprised he is not wearing a crimson and gold doublet. Those are his House colors after all._

Before she knew it, her wedding was passing by and he cloaked her to bring her under his protection. They said their vows and soon enough, he was kissing her to complete the ceremony. Arianne thought him an overeager kisser who likely got his way with whores before this. Just as she was going to slowly retreat from his mouth, he slipped his tongue in to taste her before letting go. _That’s it. I am going to end this. I will get my chance at the feast when he is not paying attention._

 

The ride from the Great Sept of Baelor to the royal gardens was much the same as the journey from the Red Keep. Smallfolk lined the streets screaming their names, but now they called her Queen Arianne. It felt wrong. Like she had committed a crime against Rhaenys who was like a sister to her.

Upon departing their wheelhouse, Joffrey locked his arm with hers to escort her through the gardens to the feast. The Kingsguard marched behind them in their golden armor and white cloaks. While passing through the green plants and colorful flowers, they finally arrived at the area that hosted their feast. She could see the dais under a temporary pavilion made of golden fabrics. There were countless tables for their guests, mostly high lords from Dorne, the Reach, the Westerlands, and parts of the Crownlands.

She wondered how much her father and the Lannisters paid for this wedding. It was the most extravagant thing she had ever seen. The entertainers and the painted wooden lion must have done nothing to save coin.

“Does my Queen wish for a cup of wine?” Joffrey asked as they sat in the King and Queen’s seats at the center of the table.

“Yes, my King,” she answered with her seductive voice she always used to get what she wanted. Many men had fallen for her beauty and charms. It was natural for her to turn their lust against them to get what she wanted. _I need to be patient. The moment will come when he is distracted._

As she carefully sipped on her Dornish red, she observed their guests begin to filter into the gardens. She saw Lord Tywin come into the feast speaking with Olenna Tyrell and Mace Tyrell. Her brothers stood at a table examining some foreign girl twist her body in all sorts of directions with her uncle and Ellaria Sand pointing at the girl. Tyrion Lannister came to the end of the table to her left with Sansa Stark. Arianne rarely saw the girl smile, but could tell the girl was now pleased not to marry Joffrey even if she was forced to marry the Imp.

Her eyes also found Loras Tyrell speaking with the Kingslayer while Cersei Lannister spoke with Brienne of Tarth. She wondered what each of them were speaking about. _Jaime is likely threatening Loras not to marry Cersei. And Cersei is likely threatening to kill Brienne for what? Only the gods know._

After some time putting up with Joffrey speaking of wielding his new Valyrian sword, Widow’s Wail, she saw everyone start to take their seats. Arianne still had not found her chance as it seemed no matter what, someone laid their eyes on her.

“My Queen,” Olenna Tyrell greeted her as she found the old Queen of Thorns before her.

“Lady Tyrell, it is a pleasure to have you at this royal wedding,” she answered. _The old woman is a gambler. I am surprised Joffrey has not protested the Tyrell presence with Margaery married to Robb Stark._

“You make for a fine Queen my dear. Such a beauty you are. I wish you good fortune your Grace. To our King’s long reign and the strong children you may have,” Olenna toasted with a cup of wine in hand. Arianne raised her own cup, wishing for something far different.

She did not know how much longer she could put up with Joffrey’s company when he started to throw coins at the singers to stop their performance. He was already into his cups and she wondered if she might be lucky enough that he would be unable to perform come nightfall. _No, I must end this before it comes to that. I will get revenge for Aegon._

“Everyone! Silence! Clear the floor. There has been too much amusement here today. A royal wedding is not for amusement. A royal wedding is history. Time has come for all of us to contemplate our history. My Lords. My Ladies,” Joffrey announced before pointing to the large painted lion that began to open its mouth. Out came several dwarves. “King Joffrey. Renly Baratheon. Robb Stark. Edmure Tully. Balon Greyjoy. The War of the Four Kings!”

The dwarves were easy to identify by their costumes as they began their mockery of the war. She thought it odd to call it the War of Four Kings considering one of the Kings had not even fought in it. _The one true king._ Arianne glanced over at her new husband who began to cackle uncontrollably, spitting up some of his wine. He was truly repulsive and she knew she needed to act. _This show is obviously meant to offend his uncle after the scene at Tyrion’s own wedding._

Eventually, the dwarves were defeated by the one dressed as Joffrey and took their bows before their king. “Well fought. Well fought, here the winner’s purse,” Joffrey said while clapping. He continued, “Though, you are not the champion yet. A true champion defeats all their challengers. Surely there are others out there that still dare to challenge my reign. Uncle, how about you? I am sure they have a spare costume.”

“One taste of combat was enough for me your Grace. I would like to keep what remains of my face. I think you should fight him,” Tyrion Lannister answered Joffrey as he stood from his seat at the end of the table. “This is but a poor imitation of your own bravery on the field of battle. I speak as a firsthand witness. Climb down from the table with your new Valyrian sword and show everyone how a true king wins his throne. But be careful because this one is truly mad with lust. It would be a tragedy for the King to lose his virtue hours before his wedding night.”

Arianne did her best to keep a face as still as stone. _The Imp is a funny man. Stupid to test Joffrey like this, but funny._ Everyone was now as quiet as the silent sisters as she saw Joffrey pause for a brief second. Not letting the insult go unanswered, Joffrey picked up his cup and walked past his mother and grandfather towards Tyrion.

Trying her best not to watch, Arianne did glimpse Joffrey pouring his wine onto his uncle’s head out of the corner of her vision. “Fine vintage. Shame that it spilled,” Tyrion said, trying to diffuse the situation he had created.

“It did not spill,” Joffrey answered angrily.

“My love, come back to me. It is time for my brother’s toast,” she urged Joffrey to come back to her with her hand stretched out for him to reach. _I should have taken the chance then! I must be patient and wait for another chance._

“But how does he expect me to toast without wine,” Joffrey replied. “Uncle, you can be my cupbearer, seeing as you are too cowardly to fight.”

“Your grace does me a great honor,” Tyrion answered.

“It was not meant to be an honor,” Joffrey said. Arianne wondered what the fool would do next. When Tyrion walked to Joffrey to take his cup, Joffrey dropped it to the ground before the Imp could take it. Just as he reached to the ground to pick it up, Joffrey kicked it towards the end of the table behind him. “Bring me my goblet,” Joffrey added.

Sansa Stark was the one to pick it up and hand it to her husband. When he brought it back and handed it to Joffrey, she could tell this was not finished. “What good is an empty cup? Fill it,” he ordered his uncle.

Tyrion was slow to do it, but he filled the cup nonetheless. He handed the cup back to Joffrey who still seemed unpleased with his uncle. “Kneel,” her new husband ordered. “Kneel. I said kneel!”

“Oh look! The pie,” Arianne declared hoping Joffrey would not ruin the feast with a feud with Tyrion. _The idiot may kill him and I will miss the chance to slip the poison into his cup._ The crowd cheered at the sight of the large pie and Joffrey came over to her with a smirk on his face. She made sure to take the cup from him and place it back on the table behind them.

She turned her attention back to Joffrey who had unsheathed his sword and brought it down onto the pie, releasing the pigeons inside. Earning the applause of the lords and ladies, Joffrey took a bow like he had won some victory. When he returned to her side, she lifted a fork with some pie handed to her by a servant for him to eat. As he took a bite from the pie, staring into her eyes with his green, she saw he was planning more for this feast.

“Uncle! Where are you going? You are my cupbearer remember?” Joffrey asked as he turned around to find Tyrion prepared to leave.

“I thought I might change out of these wet clothes your Grace,” Tyrion replied.

“No. No. No. You are perfect the way you are. Serve me my wine,” Joffrey said. As Tyrion picked up the cup and filled it, Joffrey continued, “Hurry up. This pie is dry.”

Joffrey began to drink the wine, saying, “This is good. Needs washing down.” Before he could say anymore, he let out a small cough.

“If it please your Grace, Lady Sansa is tired,” Tyrion said.

“No,” Joffrey let out as he began to cough again. Arianne saw him continue to cough and drink more from his cup to clear his throat. “No, you’ll wait here and…”

Arianne saw Joffrey turn towards her with a pained face as he began to choke and was unable to get the words out of his mouth. She watched him started to reach for his collar as he choked and the skin near his lips began to turn a slight purple. “He is choking!” she finally yelled.

“Help the poor boy you idiots. He is your King!” Olenna Tyrell spoke up from the nearest table as everyone stood from their seats as Joffrey collapsed to the ground before everyone.

Arianne could not believe what she was seeing as she moved toward Joffrey, who was shaking and spitting up blood onto the stone tiles beneath him. _Someone beat me to it! But who?_ His mother and father were on the ground next to him, trying their best to help him. But she knew there was nothing they could do.

She felt her brothers come to her side as they watched Joffrey’s skin turn purple with blood spilling out of his mouth and the corner of his eyes as he took his last breath in pain. She saw Cersei whisper something to her son before following Joffrey pointing at Tyrion who was picking up the cup on the ground next to them.

“He did it. He killed my son. Your King. Take him. Take him! Take him! Take him!” she screamed as Arianne saw the Kingsguard appear from behind her to take Tyrion Lannister prisoner.

 

It was the following morning and Arianne sat in the solar of her guest quarters in the Red Keep with her brothers, uncle, and Ellaria Sand. She was still trying to figure out what had happened at her wedding. Sansa Stark was missing, Tyrion Lannister in the black cells, and Joffrey dead. _Surely Sansa did not do it. She lacks the cunning and bravery to commit to such an act. And Tyrion may have hated Joffrey, but kill his own family? No._

“So, what happens now?” Trystane asked.

“What? Already want to be back at the Water Gardens with your love?” Quentyn jested. She could not believe her youngest brother had fallen for Myrcella Baratheon. “Father will want Arianne to marry Tommen. The marriage to Joffrey was not consummated and the Lannisters still need us.”

“You and Father are fools if you think I will marry that boy. I cannot believe I let this short-lived marriage occur. I will not allow another,” she replied with rage.

“What are you complaining about? You will still get to be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms,” Quentyn replied.

“How can you forget what they did to our family? They killed our uncle Lewyn. They killed our cousin who was meant to be King! All you care about is getting me out of the way so you can rule from Sunspear,” Arianne scolded her stupid brother.

“Enough! Your sister is right. The betrothal was to Joffrey, not Tommen. Return to Sunspear my dear Princess. I will stay here in this stinking city to represent our House at the small council and see what comes of the Imp’s trial,” Oberyn interjected.

“Why would you stay? Come with us,” she urged her uncle.

“There are questions I still have that need answering and I will only find them here. The three of you should sail for Sunspear today. Now leave us, all of you. I wish to speak to your sister alone,” Oberyn said. Her brothers surprisingly did not object as they stood to leave the solar with Ellaria.

“Did you do it? Did you poison Joffrey?” she asked her uncle who was well versed in the art of poison.

“No, it was not me,” he answered. “Tywin perhaps. I heard the boy was difficult to control. The boy Tommen will be much easier.”

“Perhaps,” she echoed, trying to think of the possible perpetrators. Initially, she considered Varys, but quickly dismissed it considering he never stood near Joffrey’s wine and he seemed to be genuinely surprised when he saw Joffrey lying dead on the ground.

“I know it wasn’t the Imp nor his missing wife,” her uncle added.

“No, that much I do know. Sansa Stark is missing because whoever did this wanted Tyrion to look like the guilty party. If I had to guess, I would say Rhaella Targaryen ordered a loyalist to do it or it was…” she stopped when it came to her.

“What is it?” Oberyn asked.

“She did it. Olenna. She came to the table to compliment me and was near the wine. It had to be her,” she concluded after piecing together her memories from the day before.

“You are sure?” Oberyn questioned.

“I am. The Tyrell’s must think the Targaryens will return soon and wish to prove their loyalty after siding with Renly and aiding Tywin. What better way than to kill Joffrey?” she explained thinking on the potential plot the Queen of Thorns had executed. _The rumors of the dragons in the east must be true. They would not take such a risk unless they feared repercussions from Jon Targaryen._

 

 

**Jon Targaryen**

It was near midday as he sat at the end of a long table made of dark wood in the shade on a terrace connected to their apartment. He was writing down instructions for the ruling councils of Yunkai and Astapor with his quill. Jon consulted with his wives and decided that the cities should have new laws regarding the process of conducting trials of criminals.

To his right sat Visenya who was lost in a book about the history of Old Valyria while Rhaenys sat to his left eating some grapes that grew in the gardens near the pyramid. Despite his best efforts to complete his writing of new laws, he found himself looking up from his work periodically to admire his Queens’ beauty.

He was relieved to finally finish scribing their wishes for the cities in the Bay of Dragons when he felt Daenerys’ smooth hands slide down his shoulders to his chest as she wrapped him into her embrace and kissed his cheek. She had left to see the petitioners waiting for them in the throne room earlier in the morning. The tensions between the noble families of Meereen and the freed slaves were intensifying. It was a struggle to manage the violence. Killing the remaining masters would have been the simple and easy choice, but they wanted to put an end to the bloodshed without butchering families.

“What are you writing?” she whispered as he could feel her breath on his ear.

“What we discussed earlier. Yunkai and Astapor will adopt the practice of a fair trial for all accused. It took me longer than I had planned, but my penmanship has always been poor,” he answered thinking about how he always disliked the maester lessons on penmanship. _I am no Samwell Tarly._

“Any word from Kovarro or Rakharo?” Daenerys asked as she moved to take the seat beside Visenya.

“A rider arrived at the gates this morning. The khalasar has begun to move from Vaes Dothrak. They will reach Mantarys and Tolos within the next moon. Kovarro and Qhono will lead half the horde against Mantarys while Rakharo and Aggo will take Tolos,” Rhaenys answered after finishing the remaining purple grapes.

“Good. I am sure they have been tireless without a fight for some time. Those cities will not last long,” Daenerys replied. He could not disagree. The cities were the least formidable in the Bay of Dragons and easy prey for a Dothraki horde to conquer. “Hizdar zo Loraq was there to see me again this morning.”

“What did he want?” he asked. Jon thought the man an honest broker who did not deceive them, but he knew better than to fully trust his instincts on the matter. Hizdar could be an excellent liar and Jon was not about to let his guard down to the Meereenese noble.

“He was going on about opening the fighting pits. Something about the ancient and rich history of Meereen and the traditions that bind its people together. He tried to persuade me that the fighting pits would curb the violence,” Daenerys answered before sipping on a cup of wine a servant had brought out.

“We will not open those pits so the rich can profit off the killing of slaves again,” he said as he sealed his letters with red wax stamped with the sigil of their House. “Anyway, I think we shall call for Harrold Arryn to return from Elyria if he thinks the city is secured.”

“Are you sure?” Visenya questioned.

“Aye. We are its rulers, but the city should be led by its own in our name. Not a Westerosi lord from the Vale,” he answered. Their biggest weakness was the vast expanse of their lands in Essos and the fact that they were foreign to its people. Jon understood it was far easier to start a rebellion against foreigners.

“My King. My Queens,” Ser Barristan announced his presence from behind as Jon turned in his chair to see the Lord Commander of his Kingsguard walking toward him with a scroll in hand. “A message from Dragonstone my King.”

Jon took the scroll from the old knight’s hand to find the three-headed dragon seal on the rolled-up scroll. Breaking the wax seal, he unfurled the message and started to read what news came from his grandmother. As he read the words, he could not believe what he was seeing.

“What is it? You are starting to worry me,” Rhaenys said. He lifted his eyes from the parchment to find his wife with a worried look on her face. Jon only saw that face when she was worried for their children or another member of their family.

“Robb. The Freys betrayed him. And Bran and Rickon…,” he said before Visenya snatched the scroll from his hands.

“Why didn’t grandmother tell us?” Visenya asked when she finished reading. “I thought the Greyjoys had only attacked the western shores. Now we know Theon took Winterfell, only for this Bolton bastard to take Winterfell and betray Robb.”

“Is Robb alive?” Daenerys asked.

“He is alive and marching north. The war in the Riverlands is over. Walder Frey planned to assassinate Robb, Margaery, Catelyn, Brynden Tully, and other lords at The Twins. Edmure is their prisoner. The Blackfish has returned to Riverrun. And no one knows if Bran or Rickon are alive,” Jon said with a feeling of defeat. _How many more of our kin have to die?_

“We should join Robb and fight to take back Winterfell,” Visenya said with steely conviction.

“Don’t be silly,” Rhaenys said.

“Rhaenys is right. There is nothing for us to do. For all we know, Robb has taken Winterfell already. Ramsay Snow will not hold the castle against all of the North. I have faith in our cousin. He will win. If the dragons were large enough, I would agree with you,” he told Visenya who seemed to cool her temper.

“And what of this news from the Wall?” Daenerys asked while focusing intently on the scroll in her hands.

“If Uncle Aemon and Sam say it is true, I believe them. We still have time and at the rate the dragons are growing, we should be able to fly them before the end of the year. When the time comes, I will fly to the Wall and deal with Mance Rayder,” he said which earned displeased looks around the table.

“And how do you propose to stop one hundred thousand men from attacking the Night’s Watch?” Rhaenys asked. _She has a point._

“Robb will bring the North. But I hope it does not come to that. If the White Walkers and the Army of the Dead are real, then we have more to worry about than a wildling invasion. If I can, I will treat with the King Beyond the Wall and have him bend the knee. When he does, his people will be declared citizens of the realm and we will let them settle along the Gift,” he declared hoping his Queens would support his decision.

“You are sure the northmen will accept wildlings on their lands?” Visenya questioned.

“The Gift is not their land. It belongs to the Watch,” he replied.

“Even worse,” Daenerys said incredulously.

“Aye. The Watch hates the wildlings even more, but we are the rightful rulers of Westeros and they will need us for the wars to come. It is not their choice. It is ours. And if the wildlings die, it is more men we will have to fight later,” he reasoned.

“I know you liked Samwell Tarly and he is your friend, but mayhaps his time beyond the Wall has driven him mad. White Walkers and tales of the Long Night?” Rhaenys voiced her skepticism.

“I know Sam. He is not mad and would not lie to us,” he replied. _How did Sam even end up at Castle Black?_

“I agree. The wildlings should not be left beyond the Wall to die. We cannot let them invade the North, but if we can, we should let them through if they bend the knee,” Daenerys declared.

“I have my doubts, but I am with you,” Rhaenys followed up. Jon turned from her to Visenya who nodded her approval.

“It is decided then. Now let us go find our children and put aside our duty to the realm for now,” Jon said as he stood from his seat. He pulled his sisterwives and Daenerys to his side to retreat into their chambers to find where his mother had his children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Robb will be staying in the North for awhile. He will be going after the remaining Ironborn but that will not be covered. Arianne will be absent for awhile now, but she will reappear. Next chapter is called A New Ally Arrives w/ POVs from Allyria, Visenya, & Allyria again.


	24. A New Ally Arrives

**Allyria Dayne**

The docks were busy this morning with a dozen or so ships arriving from Qarth. Allyria watched the organized chaos with curiosity as the ship captains directed their men to help get their goods off ship to be sold to merchants within the city. Winter stuck close to her side, making sure she would not be harmed by any assassins or Sons of the Harpy.

Besides her loyal direwolf, she was guarded by ten Unsullied and led around the docks by a Myrish captain who was one of the men overseeing the creation of the Targaryen navy in Meereen. The captain led her along a row of newly constructed ships that looked cleaner than most ships she had ever seen since they had never been put to sea. She noticed the ships still needed sails on their masts and reminded herself to let Rhaenys know of the progress of the shipbuilders later.

“As you can see my Lady, we are nearly finished with these here,” the Myrish captain said, pointing to the line of ships stretching to the end of the docks.

“And how many ships does that make for the Targaryen navy in the Bay of Dragons?” she asked, wanting to confirm the numbers she had in her head.

“Five hundred and twelve, my Lady,” the captain replied.

“The King and Queens are happy with the progress, but I must urge you continue with your progress. The royal navy will need one thousand ships at least before the invasion of Westeros. Come to me for any resources or men you need,” she informed the man who was looking overwhelmed at the task that lie ahead. He had reminded her numerous times that they were depleting the supply of quality wood in the woods nearby Meereen.

“If they want that many ships built in a shorter period of time, I will need more men,” he responded as he swept some sweat from his brow. He did seem tired when she first found him at the entrance of the port.

“Consider it done captain. I shall send more men, ready to work within the next few days,” she told the man while thinking of the amount of gold they had put aside for the navy and where they could find men to lend a hand to the shipbuilding. _I will speak with Rhaenys and mother, then Missandei to find Meereenese looking for work._

As the captain went back to ordering his men around, Allyria found herself staring out at the relatively calm waters of the bay from her place at the end of the docks. She wondered when they would be able to leave and return to Westeros. To save Sansa, help Robb, and find her youngest brothers and sister. _I know they are alive. I know it._

Her gaze was torn from the shimmering surface of the sea to Winter who was next to her growling at something behind them. “Lady Dayne! Lady Dayne!” she heard a Westerosi voice yell from behind. She did not recognize the voice and turned to find her Unsullied guards pointing their spears with their shields in a defensive stance toward a man leading a group of men from the Seven Kingdoms behind him. The man was clean-shaven with dark brown hair that was short like her uncle’s. His eyes were blue, and she could not deny his comely appearance.

“It is alright. This man means me no harm,” she ordered the Unsullied who lifted their spears and stood aside for the man to approach. _If he does mean me harm, Winter will tear his throat out._ “You are a long way from the Seven Kingdoms, my Lord.”

“How did you know me a Lord?” he asked with a smile on his face. She could tell he was admiring her as his eyes looked into her own before drifting over her face and figure. She fought to keep from blushing.

“I know these things my Lord. You obviously know who I am. I grew up in the Red Keep seeing every type of lord from all over Westeros and you have the look of a Lord. But I must admit, I do not know who you are,” she answered while examining his simple tan tunic and brown breeches. _He is a fool if he thinks he will blend in with the people of Meereen._

“My name is Willas of House Tyrell, my Lady. I have come to bend the knee to the rightful King and Queens of Westeros. I also bring news from home,” he said with a blank face she could not read.

“Did you see Robb at Margaery’s wedding? How was he? Have you heard word from them?” she asked without thinking. _He probably thinks me mad for caring so much for Robb._

“Before I departed Oldtown, I received a raven from Highgarden. Robb and the northern lords retook Winterfell. I did not attend the wedding at Riverrun I am afraid. Why do you care? I did not think you were that close to Margaery,” he said with an interested face.

She did not know why she felt compelled to inform the future lord of Highgarden the truth, but she did. “He is my brother. My half-brother. I worry for his health and that of Margaery. I heard she carries his child.”

“She does my Lady. And I am sorry for what happened to your father. Ned Stark was an honorable man who did not deserve such an end,” he said with a worried look. _He likely worries about my opinion of my father._

“Thank you Lord Willas. I am afraid I still mourn his loss. We only had a short time together before he was stolen from me,” she answered, knowing if she continued to speak of her father, tears would come. “I am sorry. I know it has been more than two years since he was killed, but I get emotional whenever I speak of him,” she said, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye she promised herself not to shed.

“It is quite alright, my Lady. I wish you had more time together. I cannot imagine losing my father just as I got to know him. If I may, I do carry good news from King’s Landing you may enjoy,” Willas responded.

“What is it?” she asked.

Willas stepped closer to her, taking her hands in his. He leant his head forward to the side of her face to whisper in her ear, “Joffrey Baratheon is dead and your sister, Sansa, has escaped to the Vale with Littlefinger.”

Allyria could not hide her smile as she stared at the comely lord from the Reach. _Thank the old gods Sansa got away. But with Littlefinger? He cannot be trusted. He betrayed Father!_

“How?” was all she could get out.

“Not here. I shall tell you everything when I meet with King Jon if that is fine with you?” he said with a concerned look. _Willas seems to be a good man. Why should he care how I feel or what I think?_

“It is my Lord. I must ask, have you heard anything about my sister Arya Stark? Or Bran and Rickon?”

“I am afraid not, Lady Allyria,” he replied. She liked how her name sounded from his lips. Her thoughts then turned from the man before her to her missing sister and brothers before realizing she was just standing there, staring at him.

“I am sure the journey here was long and tedious. If you would follow me, I shall bring you to our King and Queens,” she said, earning a nod from Willas. She proceeded to walk past him with Winter at her side making for the entrance to the port for the wheelhouse that had brought her there from the pyramid.

The ride from the port to the pyramid in the center of Meereen took longer than she liked. Allyria wanted to hear more from Willas about Westeros and what had happened since they received news from Dragonstone. _How was Joffrey killed? How did Sansa escape?_

Her direwolf was at her side the moment she stepped out of the wheelhouse with Willas’ assistance. Willas’ men were escorted to their guest quarters she ordered ready to one of the maids waiting for her. She continued on to the throne room, knowing Jon would still be there hearing petitioners for the day.

After the long climb up the pyramid, they reached the throne room with several Unsullied and Targaryen soldiers guarding its entrance. When she stepped into the room, she saw Jon, Daenerys, Visenya, and Rhaenys sitting at the top of the stairs on the simple wooden bench that never seemed appropriate for a King or Queen. Missandei stood to the right of the steps with Grey Worm. Ser Barristan stood to the left with Ser Jorah.

“You stand in the presence of King Jon, Queen Daenerys, Queen Visenya, and Queen Rhaenys of the House Targaryen, rightful King and Queens of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Khal and Khaleesis of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breakers of Chains,” Missandei announced to Willas Tyrell after Allyria took her place next to the Naathi woman. _Too many titles for me to bother with._

“Why have you come here Lord Willas?” Jon asked with a skeptical look.

“I have come to bend the knee to my King and Queens,” Willas answered as he knelt before them on the hard, stone floor.

“Rise, Lord Tyrell,” Daenerys instructed him. “May I ask, if you have come to bend the knee, why is your father still on Joffrey’s small council?”

“Joffrey Baratheon is dead my Queen. My father remains in King’s Landing to appease Tywin Lannister and keep the Reach out of the war until the time comes,” Willas answered.

“Forgive me my Lord for thinking your House is playing both sides and waiting to see who the winner will be. Why should we not take you for our prisoner and demand your father cease all support to the Lannisters?” Rhaenys asked.

“Because we have chosen our King and Queens. Joffrey Baratheon was poisoned at his wedding feast by my grandmother’s hand. I trust that will not leave this room. We reached an arrangement of sorts with Lord Baelish to remove Joffrey and help Sansa Stark escape King’s Landing. She was headed for the Eyrie when I set sail for Meereen. And my sister is married to Robb Stark. I would not a fight a war against her,” Willas defended himself.

“I thank you for removing Joffrey, but trusting Littlefinger with Sansa? He betrayed our family and conspired with Cersei,” Visenya responded with a cold tone.

“That he did my Queen, but that was the past. He can be dealt with in time. We saw an opportunity and took it. When you return to Westeros, I will call the banners and House Tyrell will stand with House Targaryen as it has for the last three hundred years,” Willas replied with his head held high. _He does not lack courage at court._

“Very well my Lord,” Jon said before standing from his seat and walking down the steps toward Willas. “When the time comes, I expect the Reach to send all of its men to our side and the Redwyne fleet should not aid the Lannisters in any way.”

“They will not my King, I swear it,” Willas swore.

“Good. Our maids will see you to the guest chambers and we will speak on the morrow about the future of the Seven Kingdoms. Now leave us,” Jon commanded. Willas bowed to Jon and looked at her before leaving the throne room to find his quarters.

 

“What did you think of him?” Visenya asked as they sat at the table in her chambers, sipping on Arbor gold. _Well, I am the only one partaking in the wine._

“I thought him honest. I think we can trust him. I wouldn’t trust his fool of a father, but I trust him,” she answered thinking about her brief time with the future Lord of House Tyrell.

“He had eyes for you. He could not stop looking at you in the throne room,” Rhaenys said to her annoyance.

“He did not,” she refuted. Allyria did not want to admit it, but Rhaenys was right. Willas was interested in her and failed to hide his admiration. _Or he did not attempt to hide his interest at all._

“Do not lie to yourself Allyria,” Daenerys told her. “He would be a fool not to be. You are a beauty any great lord should want to marry and have children with.”

“How did we go from talking about Willas Tyrell to having children?” she asked. _I cannot deny I do wish for children, but it will not be with Willas Tyrell. He will be the Lord of Highgarden. He cannot marry a lady who was born a Sand._

“I think you should pursue him if he does not approach you himself. You know we would support such a marriage,” Rhaenys encouraged her. “And if you just want to share your bed with him, I will support that as well,” she jested. _Rhaenys knows I have not been with a man in that way. I may be one of the few Dornish who have not by my age. Perhaps it is the North in me._

“I will keep that in mind,” she responded before bringing the cup of Arbor gold back to her lips.

 

 

**Visenya Targaryen**

“What are you smiling about?” he asked her as she sat next to him on the beach watching the waves crash under the morning sun.

“Our life. It is all I dreamed for and more,” she replied. _Well, not everything. I would give almost anything to bring back Father and Aegon._ Visenya still thought of her father and eldest brother every day, wishing their deaths had been some sick dream and she would wake up to find them sitting at the breakfast table with the rest of their family in the Red Keep.

“Are you sure you haven’t made a mistake and chosen the wrong man to marry?” he jested with a bright smile he kept from everyone else but their family.

“Stop it. I could never regret this,” she responded, lightly hitting his arm. Her playfulness seemed to stir something in him. He pounced on her and rolled on top of her, attacking her lips. She acted like she was trying to resist knowing Ser Arthur was nearby, but the heat in her core took over. Visenya became just as aggressive with her tongue as Jon had.

“Do you want to go for a swim?” he asked huskily when he broke apart from her mouth to breathe. _Yes!_

“We can’t. Arthur is right over there,” she answered in a hushed tone looking up at the Kingsguard standing on the grass hill behind them that led to a grove of lemon trees. She wanted to discard her clothes and enjoy the warm waters, but she would not do so with an audience. Visenya still felt uncomfortable showing any affection in front of their Kingsguard at times.

“Then I will tell him to leave and guard the horses,” Jon said. She shook her head in disapproval. “What, you do not think I would do it?”

“Aye, I think you would. But we can’t. You can’t. Too many people here want us dead. We cannot risk it. You know what happened at Maidenpool to Good Queen Alysanne. We cannot let our guard down for a moment,” she told him. Reading about Alysanne’s loss of her first child always made her sad. When she first read about the event, she wept until her mother comforted her. _I do not know if I could bear losing a child growing inside me._

“I should have brought Ghost with us. That was my mistake,” he answered before leaning back in for a kiss. She could still taste the lemons they had picked earlier on his lips. The feeling of his cock fighting to get out of his breeches rubbing against her was driving her mad. _I am almost tempted to have him right here._

“Enough, we can continue this later,” she whimpered after pushing him back after he slid his hand up her skirt, tracing her inner thigh. If she did not stop him there, she would have failed to stop him at all. “What has gotten into you?”

“You, my beautiful Queen,” he answered, running a hand through her hair that was in a simple northern braid for this day. She did not want to bother Missandei or one of the handmaidens with arranging a more complex braid that she began to prefer. “I found this the other day in the city. I hope you like it,” he continued, presenting her a silver banded ring with diamond.

“It’s perfect,” she said as he slipped it onto her finger. “You didn’t have to. I have enough jewelry.”

“Nonsense. I saw it and thought it would look perfect on your beautiful skin,” Jon said as he lifted her hand to his mouth, leaving a gentle kiss.

“Thank you,” she replied, lifting the ring back up to examine the stone in the sunlight. “Would you make me a promise?”

“What is it I am promising?” he asked in a voice tinged with worry.

“When the wars are over and we have retaken the Iron Throne, let us reside at Summerhall for a time. I want to enjoy its gardens and fountains again. Its woods and lake. I want our children to build memories they will never forget there. I wish we had grown up there. It was finished too late, but it will not be too late for our sons and daughters,” she requested, imagining the life their summer palace had to offer.

“I promise. When we return, we will go there and spend many moons away from King’s Landing,” Jon said, looking into her eyes with the love she knew he held for her. _I still feel lucky to have his love and be his Queen. He seems to make it a contest who says they feel luckiest to have one another._

“Did you hear our daughter this morning?” she asked, thinking back on what her daughter said before they left for their trip from the city.

“No, did she say some new words?” Jon asked with a smile. _He may not admit it, but his girls are his favorites._

“One, wolf. I said something about Silver and Dany pointed to her and said wolf. It was the cutest thing,” she mused. _I hope my daughter gets a direwolf of her own one day._

“She does like chasing after them. It scares me sometimes. She is fearless and not afraid to run around them, tripping over their feet,” he said.

“Do not worry, our wolves would never allow anything to happen to her. And you cannot protect her forever,” she warned him. _I will need to loosen his watch over them when they grow up._

“Aye, but I can do my best now,” Jon said with confidence. One thing she had noticed over the past year was the confidence he carried, being King. Jon still drove her mad with his modesty on occasion, but he is not as timid as he was when they were children.

“Speaking of children, do you think Allyria will marry Willas?” she asked, hoping her cousin would finally find a man who would love her and give her the world.

“What are you talking about?” he asked with a confused face.

“I love you, but sometimes you can be blind. Have you not seen how they always sit next to each other and always end up speaking to one another, ignoring everyone else? Surely you are not that blind,” she replied. _I guess I should not be surprised. He did not know I loved him for a long time._

“I did not know. I will be happy for her if she marries Willas or whomever she may choose. Should I speak to Willas about it and …,” he said before she held up a hand to stop him.

“You will do no such thing. If he loves her, he will let her know and make her his wife. You are their King. Do not ruin it with a betrothal. I think they will marry for love. Or that is just my hope,” Visenya pondered.

Jon stood up from the sand then and reached down to pull her up off the ground. He pulled her against his front and kissed her brow. She took the time to breathe in his familiar scent as she rested her head against his chest while he ran a hand through her smooth hair.

“We should head back soon. Our children may need us and Meereen certainly does,” she whispered against his chest. Meereen’s problems were beginning to wear on her. The conflict and tension between its people were difficult to resolve. Each side hated each other and as their rulers, they were caught in the middle. _I detest the masters, but I do not want to have them murdered._

“You are right my love. Shall we?” he asked and she nodded. They began their trek up the beach to Ser Arthur waiting for them with their horses ready to take them back to the city that was close to five miles away.

 

 

**Allyria Dayne**

It had been two moons since Willas Tyrell found her at the docks of Meereen’s port and she was surprised how close she had come to the heir of Highgarden. She saw him everyday during meetings with Jon, Daenerys, Rhaenys, and Visenya. It was not intentional, but she always found herself sitting next to him and working together to advise the Targaryens and oversee certain projects for them. She was especially thankful for his help with the construction of new ships.

It was only his second day in Meereen when he offered his help and that of his men who sailed ships in the Redwyne fleet. Jon and Rhaenys asked her to monitor the progress for them not because she knew anything about shipbuilding, but because she was family and they could trust her. When Willas worked with her day after day, she knew she would not fail them.

Now she sat at the small table in her solar with the cool night air rolling in after the sun had set. Willas sat across from her, sharing supper with her. It had become a new routine for him to share a meal with her every few days. They talked about everything. She spoke of her love for horseback riding, her sisters Arya and Sansa, the view of the Summer Sea from Starfall, and countless stories from her childhood.

“So, what do you think of them?” he asked after he had finished telling her the story of his defeat of Prince Oberyn Martell in the joust at a tourney in Oldtown hosted by House Hightower.

“Think of who?” she asked.

“Our King and Queens. What do you think of them? Do you believe they can take back Westeros and have a just rule?”

“I do. You may think me biased, but they are the best people I know. Jon and Visenya are my cousins by blood, but they have been more like a brother and sister to me. Dany and Rhae as well. We are family. Jon is the bravest man I know and just as skilled a warrior as my Uncle Arthur. Visenya is fearless and as deadly a fighter as her namesake, but also smart enough to know her history and the lessons it can give us. Daenerys can lead and motivate anyone to follow her. She proved that on the Dothraki Sea. And Rhaenys is as experienced at holding court as anyone. Together, they will bring peace back to the Seven Kingdoms and bring justice to the murderers who killed my father, Aegon, and Rhaegar. It also doesn’t hurt they have dragons and a Dothraki horde,” Allyria said. She felt like she did not have enough words to describe how great they would be as rulers.

“No, it does not. And I agree with you about their ability to lead people and rule. I had my questions before I came here, but in my short time here, I have come to see who they are,” Willas said before putting the cup of wine to his lips again.

Unintentionally, she found her eyes focusing on his lips. The lips she had kissed a fortnight ago outside her room one evening after a supper much like this one. She had wanted to kiss him since he first arrived but was too nervous to act. Allyria questioned herself and whether a son of a great House would want to be with a woman born a bastard. The memory was etched in her mind and she remembered every second of it. She could still feel his soft lips, his tongue tasting her mouth, his hands on her hips and neck, and her back pinned against the stone wall outside her chambers.

Plenty of boys in Dorne sought her affection and even some men in King’s Landing had shown an interest. But it was Willas Tyrell who had stolen her affection. She had yet to speak with him about her feelings. It seemed they had always found a way to avoid the subject. _Why am I getting my hopes up? Falling in love with a High Lord and bearing him children? No. He will marry a beautiful Lady from another great House of noble birth._

“What do you plan to do when you return to Westeros?” he asked, pulling her from her thoughts.

“What will I do? I do not know. Return to King’s Landing and the Red Keep. Help House Targaryen anyway I can. Perhaps I will travel to Winterfell to see my family or return to Starfall or both,” she responded. _I have not really thought of it._ “What do you plan to do?”

“When the fighting is done, return to Highgarden. Marry a beautiful Lady and have children of my own,” he answered. _I could be his lady-wife. I could give him those children. Our children!_ Allyria tried to bury the thoughts as soon as they crept into her mind.

“That sounds nice. Whoever she may be, she will be lucky to have a such a chivalrous husband and Lord,” she answered. Allyria struggled to hide the sadness in her voice the moment she opened her mouth. She saw him shake his head with disappointment. _He knows how I feel. I have ruined this._

Willas then stood from his chair and Allyria was quick to follow to escort him from her chambers. She felt embarrassed and ashamed of herself. She allowed her hopes of a future with him to take hold of her heart without thinking of what he wanted or would be duty-bound to do. _I have kissed men before. Now I let this one get to me and I become a swooning maid!_

“Sleep well, Lord Willas,” she bid him farewell as he stepped through the doorway to the corridor outside her chambers. Allyria turned around to retreat to her bed and sulk in her emotions she failed to contain. Her feet were stopped by the sound of his voice still behind her.

“Allyria,” Willas said before she spun around to find him walking back into her room. The moment she began to ask him what he wanted, he pulled her flush against him with his hand on the small of her back. His other hand moved from cupping her cheek to gliding across her skin to the nape of her neck, finally running through her hair. She had forgotten what they were just talking about as their tongues battled one another’s. Unable to contain her hunger for him, she accidently bit his bottom lip, but he seemed to do his best to ignore it. _I think he actually enjoyed it. No, I need to stop this here. We have no future._

Finally breaking apart, Allyria started, “Willas, I cannot keep doing this. This will go no further than us sharing a bed before you return to Highgarden and marry that beautiful Lady you dream of. It would be nice, I admit. But that is not me. The man I share a bed with will be my husband and the father of my children.”

He just shook his head and let out a small laugh. _What is he laughing at?_ She was ready to scold him for thinking he could just take her maidenhead and leave her until he spoke first. “Dammit Allyria. That Lady is you. It is you I want. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. It is your smile and smooth olive skin in the morning sun. Your deep violet eyes and long black hair shining under the moonlight. I love your big heart and love for your family. Your compassion and thoughtfulness for others. I want you to be my wife and the future Lady of Highgarden.”

Her heart fluttered and she felt the heat building between her legs. Allyria fought the urge to jump him there. No man had ever spoke like that to her. “What about my birth? Your family and the lords of the Reach…,” she tried to get out the words.

“Stop it. You are a Lady of House Dayne, the daughter of Eddard Stark and Lady Ashara Dayne. You are a Lady of noble birth. I do not care what they say. I care what you say. About us. About our future, if you would have me,” Willas said with his face mere inches from her own and his sky-blue eyes locked with hers.

“I would have you,” she whispered against his lips with a wide smile. After taking several moments to admire the man she had found, she jumped into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist. While capturing his lips and locking her arms around his neck, she felt his large hands holding her up by her ass. “I want you to stay here tonight.”

“I would very much like that my Lady,” he said with his warm breath hitting her lips. She kissed him further as he carried her across her solar and to her bedchambers. Winter stood guard at the corner of the entrance to her bedchambers when they arrived. Allyria motioned her wolf to go stand guard outside without getting in the way.

Reaching the foot of her bed, Willas let her down softly so she could stand on her own two feet. As she lifted a hand to slip off her light Essosi dress, Willas laid his hand over hers to take over the task. Her heart skipped a beat as he slipped the dress off one shoulder, then the other. It instantly pooled at her feet and she looked down at her own body for a brief second, hoping he would worship it as she had heard other men worship their ladies.

When Allyria looked back up to Willas’ eyes, she found him devouring her. His gaze went from her breasts to her glistening cunt that was sopping, ready for him to be inside her. She moved forward, grabbing his light tunic and lifting it so that she could see him. Allyria was ready for him to be on top of her with his hard muscles and well-built form. He was not the strongest looking man she had seen from her times observing training yards, but Willas was fitter than most.

Just as she finished admiring his strong arms and sculpted stomach, he removed his breeches and small clothes to reveal his cock that she was wanting inside her. Willas moved in to kiss her again and she was going mad as his cock was pressed against her stomach. He slowly worked his mouth down from her lips to her neck for a period before latching onto her breasts.

She could tell her breasts pleased him with the amount of attention and love he showed them. With one nipple in his mouth grazing along his teeth and the other being pleasured with his thumb, she threw back her head while running her hand through his hair. She had played with her own breasts whenever she pleasured herself, but it was not like this.

After he had moved onto her other breast, he finally lifted his head and kissed her again. He then grabbed her hand and led her onto the side of her bed. Allyria was the first to sit on the bed and she laid back with her entrance open for him at the edge of the bed. As she spread her legs wide for him to enter, she moved a hand down to rub her clit while the other kneaded her breast.

Willas did not let her have a moment to play with herself as he moved in, both hands spreading her legs just that much wider. Not giving her a chance, he moved her hand from her nub and began to move two of his own fingers over it. It did not last long when he moved his cock into position and slid his hard member over her clit several times, driving her over the edge until finally dipping into her wet folds.

Her back arched as he slowly sought entrance into her cunt and his cock gently eased its way into her until he filled her to the hilt. As soon as he was fully sheathed, he pulled back to start his thrusts with one hand on her hip and the other pushing one of her thighs apart. It was slightly uncomfortable at first since her cunt had only had her own fingers and not his larger cock. _Thank the gods he is taking his time with this. He is experienced._

His thumb strumming her clit was beginning to send her over the edge as her walls were starting to get used to him filling her. “Faster,” she panted while fisting her silk sheets. Willas followed her instruction and sped up his thrusts into her hips.

“Oh….Oh…yes…,” she whimpered as he drove into her. She felt her walls close on his cock and she began to see stars while throwing her head back into the bed. Allyria felt her body respond to his efforts as her toes curled while losing control of her writhing body. She pulled him closer with her legs wrapped around his thighs and she felt his cock twitch inside her.

“Fuck yes…,” he let out as she felt his hot seed fill her. She saw him lose control of his final thrusts through her own hooded eyelids. When he was completely spent, he fell onto her with his face buried into the crook of her neck.

They were both panting as she began to run her hand through his dark brown hair. He was still inside her as his sweat covered body laid on top of her own. _I hope he is not finished because I want more._ “That was …,” she began.

“Perfect? Amazing?” he responded.

“Yes, those were the words I was looking for,” she answered after finally taking control of her breath.

“I love you Allyria. I hope you know that,” Willas said as he shifted on top of her to look into her eyes.

“I love you too,” she replied. _I love him._ She prayed this was not a mistake he would later come to regret. _No, that is not Willas. I have gotten to know him enough to know when he means something._

“Good. I cannot wait for us to marry,” he responded with a smile.

“Allyria Tyrell. I think I like the sound of it, even if my Dornish side disagrees,” she jested. Her House did not hold hatred for House Tyrell, but most of Dorne did. “And do not worry. I will get the moon tea so we can wait…”

“Don’t,” he stopped her. “If you carry my child, I will marry you here in Meereen or wherever we are. I do not care. And if we return to Westeros before then, then we will marry in Westeros.”

“I do not think your family would like that. Especially that grandmother of yours. She has quite the reputation and I have heard stories,” she warned him.

“Do not worry about them. I am yours and you are mine, my love. I look forward to spending the rest of my days with you,” he replied.

“Aye. I like the sound of that,” she said. She lifted her head to take his mouth and taste him while tracing her hand on his back. Allyria felt him harden against her stomach, knowing he was ready to make love to her again. “Now, where were we?”

Willas let out a small laugh before kissing her again. As his tongue parted her lips, she reached down to finally grab hold of his cock and feel it pulse in her hand. She moaned into his mouth as she guided his smooth cock back to her cunt. He recognized her thirst for more and began to thrust into her again with less carefulness than before.

Later that night, Allyria basked in the smell of their sex filling the room and her love laying behind her with an arm keeping her close for warmth. She figured they must have made love and pleasured each other for nearly two hours before wearing themselves out. _This is what Rhaenys said love felt like. I can never let him go now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slow chapter unless you are an Allyria fan. Next two chapters are two of my favorites. The next will be called Sovegon with Daenerys, Rhaenys, & Sansa POVs. The chapter after that will have Jon, Visenya, & Daenerys POVs but I will not give away the title just yet.


	25. Sovegon

**Daenerys Targaryen**

“Zaldrizes! Zaldrizes!” Rhaegar yelled, pointing to Drogon and Rhaegal resting in the grass of the gardens near the great pyramid of Meereen. Her little son learned more and more words every day. It was a mix of Valyrian and the common tongue that stuck in his head. Rhaegar and Arya were quick to learn the words for dragons. She felt great pride when her little ones ran around pretending they were dragons flying over some imaginary lands. Daenerys smiled whenever she thought of the day her children would claim their own dragons, Rhaegal and Viserion.

“Yes, sweetling. Drogon and Rhaegal. If you hold my hand and do as I say, I will let you touch them,” she told her son who lit up with a big smile and squeezed her hand with his tiny fingers. She looked over her shoulder to see Jon knelt down whispering something to their daughter. _Likely giving her instructions twice._ Arya was as wild as her namesake in the past year, eager to explore and ignore their voices. Rhaegar was more subdued and would always obey them when they told him to stop doing something.

Daenerys wondered how difficult it would become to control all of their children in a few years when they were all grown up. It was stressful enough dealing with all the small babes they had, even with the assistance of handmaidens and wetnurses she tried to avoid use of when possible. Now she was six moons along with another babe in her stomach. _Likely two babes._

They made their way to the gardens this day to attempt to fly their dragons. Jon protested, but she and Visenya reasoned the dragons were large enough and if they waited any longer, they would be too pregnant to try. When Rhaenys added her voice to their own, her husband was powerless to resist. _He could have fought me. He could have overruled the three of us as every Targaryen King before him, but he did not. That is one of the reasons I love him._

“Arya! No! Arya!” she heard her husband scream as she saw her little daughter run over to Rhaegal. Jon was running after her, but could not reach their rebellious daughter who was fearless. Without any hesitation, Arya reached for Rhaegal’s green scales, giggling at its touch.

“Dragon! My Dragon!” she heard her daughter declare. Daenerys knew she should be angry with her daughter’s recklessness, but in truth she could not have been prouder of her. _She is blood of the dragon._ Not to be outmatched by his sister, Rhaegar pulled on her arm, dragging her along to Viserion who finally landed on the other side of Drogon.

“Be careful. Do not rush them, but do not fear them,” she warned her son. _He likely does not understand the true meaning of my warning, but I will try to teach him._ Rhaegar seemed to heed her caution and slowly approached Viserion. The golden dragon dipped his snout for her son to touch. “He likes you.”

“Zaldrizes! Nuha Zaldrizes. Nuha Zaldrizes,” her son claimed his dragon. She hoped Viserion would remember this and form a bond with her son that would last his entire life. _They will tell great tales of King Rhaegar II and his mount, Viserion. Jon will make him a great warrior and King._

Daenerys looked back toward the rest of their family remaining at the edge of the clearing with the gardens. Rhaenys and Visenya were sitting on the ground with their oldest who were still too small to come near the dragons. _The direwolves will have to be enough for them, at least for the next year. Eddard and little Visenya are still fascinated by them._

Her attention was broken from her son running his small hands over his dragon’s scales by Rhaegal taking flight, causing a small breeze. As soon as Rhaegal was off and away, she saw Arya running over to Rhaegar. Her daughter pulled her son in for a hug and began speaking nonsensical Valyrian to each other. It was always hard to follow their conversations. Her oldest had become inseparable and did everything together. Daenerys had never seen them this excited or happy. _Perhaps it was a bad idea to bring them. Flying off on Drogon may give them ideas. Especially Arya._

“Rhaegar, Arya, we need to give the dragons room. Walk back with me,” she told the little ones, holding both her hands out to them. She walked both her children over to Lyanna who already had Eddard and little Visenya with her. “Watch over your little brother and sister. Grandmother Lyanna needs help.”

“I’ll keep an eye on these two,” Lyanna promised, ruffling their hair which earned laughter from the two. The sound of their laughter was precious to Daenerys and she wanted to cherish that for as long as she could. _One day they will be thirteen years of age and drive me to madness._

“Thank you,” she replied as she looked over to find Visenya and Rhaenys handing their little ones to Elia and Allyria. She wished Allyria had the blood of Old Valyria. Allyria was like a sister to them, but could not have a dragon of her own. _I am happy she found someone here in Essos._

“Are you ready for this? We can wait. There is no need to rush this,” Jon tried to dissuade her with his grey eyes giving her his usual concerned look.

“Aye, my love. Drogon is ready. I am ready. Are you scared?” she jested.

“Of course, I am. You’re not?” he replied. _He is serious._

“No. Do not be scared. Trust me as you did in Vaes Dothrak,” she assured him, squeezing his arm gently before standing on her toes to kiss him before attempting to become a dragonrider like their ancestors before them. After releasing his lips, he left a peck on her brow before releasing her. Sometimes she loved his protectiveness, knowing it was out of love, but it did annoy her occasionally.

Daenerys moved from Jon and stepped over to Drogon who seemed to know what she intended. She lifted her hand and patted the scales along his neck, behind his horns. He seemed to enjoy her attentions as usual. They always made sure to visit the dragons every few days to maintain a bond and connection. “Stay still Drogon. Do not fly off on me,” she asked in High Valyrian.

She slowly inched her way back to his wings and gently climbed his shoulder, attempting to grab hold of the spikes that lined his spine. It was a relief that her movements did not hurt him and he tolerated her weight on his back. But as soon as she attempted to straighten herself and sit where she thought dragonriders should, Drogon began to spin around. She could hear Jon yell from behind.

She clung to him with all her strength, hoping not to make a fool of herself. _Jon will stop me from doing it again for a long while and I will never hear the end of it from Visenya._ “Drogon, stay still! Do not move!” she commanded in her mother tongue. Drogon stopped as soon as she raised her voice and stilled his body.

Now that her mount was still as a statue, she turned herself around from the side of his body facing his tail to sit upon his shoulders. Finally righting herself, Daenerys grabbed his spikes with her hand and pulled to her right to turn him around and take flight from the open ground. Drogon took several steps away from her family watching. She noticed Vermithrex, Silverclaw, and Myrax looking at her with surprised faces. _Can a dragon look surprised?_

“Sovegon,” she whispered to Drogon. Instantly, she felt her black dragon take several steps forward before kicking off the ground. It was a sudden rush when they left the ground and it felt like nothing she had ever experienced in her life. The wind was blowing in her face, sending her braided hair flying in a rage. When she took her eyes from the clear blue sky to look down, she realized how high Drogon had already taken her. It seemed like they were level with the top of their pyramid in an instant and she saw Viserion and Rhaegal flying toward her.

She glanced back down and pulled on Drogon to circle back to the gardens they had taken off from. Flying felt natural to her as Drogon understood her pulls and turned back. Down below, Jon appeared to struggle with Vermithrex more than herself. After three flybys, she saw the grey dragon take flight with her husband directing it. Sonar and Stormfyre were quick to join him in the air like Viserion and Rhaegal did, following Drogon.

Visenya climbed up on Silverclaw like it was a well-trained mare. _Damn her. She is a natural at everything!_ Rhaenys was next and encountered the same struggles Daenerys had, but took to the sky on Myrax with ease. Moonlight and Kios were flying beside her, screeching in the sky for all of Meereen to hear. Darkskye and Vyraxes had already joined Visenya and did not make a sound as if it was the most natural thing to follow her.

Daenerys saw Jon atop Vermithrex next to her and pointed to their pyramid. She was amazed at the speed of their dragons as they climbed the sky and began to circle their home like a falcon tracking its prey. All of the dragons began to screech and sing for the people of Meereen to hear they had taken to the sky.

After circling the pyramid and peering down at the terraces surrounding their chambers, she turned Drogon away and aimed for the other pyramids in the city. Daenerys made it a point to fly her dragon over most of the city for all who could see. _If they notice. The dragons are a common sight above Meereen._ She saw Jon, Visenya, and Rhaenys had directed their mounts in other directions. They covered the entire city, flying above every building for a long time.

As she flew over the docks, Rhaenys had taken Myrax up beside her. She saw the smile on Rhaenys’ face and she wondered if she had the same giddy look on her own. _Probably._ It was the screech from Stormfyre below that alerted her to Jon and Visenya flying maybe fifty feet above the sea before rising above the ships put to port.

Everyone below had stopped what they were doing and stood in awe of them. They were dragonriders and now displayed their true power for the people to see. _I fear it will not stop the cowardly attacks from the Sons of the Harpy._ She pushed aside such dark thoughts and pushed on Drogon to fly over the Ghiscari Hills, toward their mines.

What seemed a great distance on horseback, took no time to travel by air on Drogon. Daenerys began to wonder what great distances they could traverse in a day on dragonback. _We could fly to Vaes Dothrak in a day. Probably less._ It felt completely free up in the sky and Daenerys wished she could stay up near the clouds on Drogon forever. _No, that isn’t true. This is more enjoyable than being a Queen, but nothing compares to lying with Jon or holding my children and watching them grow._

The time above the Ghiscari Hills was short because Jon turned back to Meereen and they all followed. _He is probably right. This is our first time flying. How long should one fly for the first time on their dragon?_

It did not take long for them to return to the gardens they had taken off from. Daenerys saw her oldest waving their arms and jumping up and down as she landed Drogon in the green opening. The landing was smooth and less jolting than taking off. She felt even more confidant when she slithered off Drogon to the ground without so much as a twitch from him. _He is already used to me._

“Muna!” her children yelled as they ran into her arms as she got to her knees in the grass after Drogon moved further into the gardens to the lair the dragons had created. Her children began rambling too quickly for her to understand. She just smiled and nodded her head, trying to acknowledge their excitement.

“They were begging me to let them fly with you the entire time,” Lyanna said, shaking her head. Daenerys could not help but let out a small laugh. _I will have to keep a close eye on them._

“What was it like?” Allyria asked.

“Incredible. Like nothing else. I wish you could have been up there. Perhaps one day, you could fly with me,” Daenerys suggested.

“I don’t know. Maybe its best I stay on the ground with Winter,” Allyria said with an unsure tone.

“That was amazing!” she heard Visenya come up from behind. “We need to fly again on the morrow. It will not be long before we are stuck on the ground,” she said with her hand wresting on her stomach, similar to Daenerys’ own. She noticed Jon walking up with Rhaenys laughing against his shoulder.

“Sister, we still have our duties as Queens and mothers. Plus, our direwolves might have something to say about the time we spend in the skies,” Rhaenys added. Visenya pulled Prince Jon and Dany in for a hug before looking back to her sister.

“I know that. But these ones will need their sleep some time and I want to fly while I still can,” Visenya replied.

“Do not worry, we can help rule the city while you all are with the dragons,” Elia spoke up. “The city should not fall apart in the few hours you spend flying. Lyanna and I can manage.”

“That isn’t…,” Jon tried to answer until Daenerys cut him off.

“Thank you, Elia, we are grateful and trust you to see to any problems that arise while we are flying,” she answered while running her hands through her children’s hair to muss it. Then she moved toward Jon to pull him close to her, seeking his warmth to assuage his worries. _Does he think our hold over Meereen is so fragile it could slip from our fingers in an hour?_

 

She now stood on her terrace, following the path her dragons traced across the sky dotted with stars and illuminated by the full moon. It was difficult to find them when they flew too far away against the night sky that still held a slight blue hue. _I want to be up there with them now. What would this city look like at night on a dragon?_

Jon’s hands were now on her hips with his mouth kissing the nape of her neck. Visenya and Rhaenys were standing next to her, admiring the view of the city and the moonlit water in the bay. “We will have all the time in the world to fly them,” he whispered into her ear.

“I know. It is just hard to stay here on the ground after being up there,” she replied while reliving her flight with Drogon in her mind. While imagining flying at night, she felt Jon’s warm hands move up her shift to caress her growing belly. “I love you,” she told him just because she felt like it.

“I love you too Dany,” he replied in his husky, northern accent that always made her wet. _It still gets to me after all these years. I hope that feeling and excitement never goes away._

Moments later, she felt his hands leave her to pull in Visenya and Rhaenys so he could give them the same attention. It now began to feel normal sharing her time with him. She certainly had not expected to enjoy what they did in their bed in the hour of the wolf.

“I hope Jon and Dany find dragons of their own like Rhaegar and Arya,” Visenya mused.

“They will my love. They will. Darkskye and Stormfyre perhaps. Or one of the others. Hopefully, some of our dragons hatch eggs in the future and all our children will be dragonriders,” Jon soothed Visenya.

“The countryside will be emptied of goats and cattle if we have anymore dragons,” Rhaenys jested. _We will have to find a way to keep them from burning every meal in sight. They have already preyed on several goat herders around the Bay of Dragons._

“Yes, a problem for another day,” Jon said before leaning over to kiss Visenya and Rhaenys on their cheeks. “Let us retire for the night. The day was long and taxing.”

“Surely you mean to only retire to our bed,” Rhaenys said seductively, earning a small chuckle from their husband.

“Yes, I think I still have enough stamina, but only in our bed,” Jon replied.

Daenerys walked back to her bed and discarded her shift to the floor before slowly laying on the bed. Jon was right behind her with his cock already hard for her. She rested her head on the pillows as he spread her legs with his calloused hands until Rhaenys and Visenya took hold of them.

Jon leant down to kiss her stomach before moving onto her dripping lips that were ready for his tongue. The moment his tongue traced circles and flicked her nub, she threw her head further back. “Yes, right there my love. Oh gods, Jon. Yes…,” she moaned as his tongue dove into her folds and her hands ran through his raven curls, forcing him against her cunt.

This night was a memorable one filled with their lovemaking that must have lasted hours as Jon worshipped their bodies. Daenerys felt thoroughly spent as she laid slightly against his side with her stomach getting in the way of fully embracing him. Her sleep came easily after the exertions of the day and this night.

 

 

**Rhaenys Targaryen**

“My sweet little Prince,” she cooed, rocking Valarr in her arms. She continued, “You will be a great warrior like your father.” Daenys was quick to fall back asleep earlier after being fed. Rhaenys loved her children and made sure to spend as much time with them as possible. It grew more and more difficult by the day. She had to balance her time with her dragons and seeing to her queenly duties. Every time she woke from her sleep, she promised herself she would spend her mornings with her children.

“Muna!” she heard her oldest, Aegon, stumbling across the room to hug her leg as she sat in her chair. Nymeria was right behind him with her dark brown mane and violet eyes much like her own. Her oldest could now walk and even say a few words, all High Valyrian.

“What have we here?” she asked while reaching down to grab the wooden toy from her son. It was a small dragon figurine. _Jon must have had it made for him._ She noticed Nymeria waving one in the air similar to her brother’s.

“Your Grace, it is time,” she heard Ser Oswell inform her from the doorway. Rhaenys wished he would have ignored his duty and just let her get lost in the day with her children. Spending time with them would be far more enjoyable than their planned visit to the small fighting pits.

“So, it is,” she nodded her head and the kingsguard disappeared back into the corridor. She turned her head back to Valarr and placed a kiss on his brow before standing to carry him to his crib. “Aegon, Nymeria, you have to let go of my legs so I can walk.”

Surprisingly, her oldest complied and let her carry her Valarr over to his crib next to Daenys. It was a relief he did not begin to cry when she let him from her grasp to leave. She turned around and knelt before her oldest to bid them farewell until supper. “Be a good little prince and princess and behave yourselves,” she said before kissing both her children on the cheeks.

Doreah appeared in the room to relieve her and Rhaenys made for the stairs leading down from the royal apartment atop the pyramid. She found Jon, Daenerys, and Visenya waiting for her. He was in his typical black attire with some red while Daenerys wore a white dress with a cape to cover her arms much like her own. Visenya adorned a similar red dress without the extravagant necklace. Rhaenys stuck to a violet dress without a cape covering her arms and held a necklace of amethyst stones to match her eyes.

They were to visit one of the smaller fighting pits today on the counsel of Hizdar zo Loraq. Hizdar was a member of a noble family of Meereen who was the first to reach out and try to adhere to their rule. She did not know if they could trust the man. _Likely not._ But he had not betrayed them yet and they were more willing to listen to him after the past month.

A near moon ago, a Son of the Harpy was captured and held for trial for murder and conspiring to kill Targaryen soldiers. He was ready to face their judgement until a freed slave they had named an advisor saw to his murder while chained in a cell. Mossador was his name and he had disobeyed their orders. The prisoner was not to be touched and Jon was especially enraged at the act.

Rhaenys wanted to turn the other way and ignore the murder. _Why should we feel sympathy for a Son of the Harpy? He would see our entire family slaughtered if he could._ But she did not argue with Jon or Visenya, who insisted honor demanded Mossador meet the King’s justice. Daenerys sided with them for more political reasons. She wanted to appease the noble families for the time being.

When Jon took Mossador’s head with Longclaw for noble and freed slave all to see, their usual unwavering support from the former slaves disappeared. The people of Meereen hissed at them and some even threw rocks. Enough Unsullied were there to protect them, but the nobles and poor fought it out after they left.

Meereen was in chaos again as the Sons of the Harpy attacked on a daily basis. Targaryen soldiers and the Unsullied were never attacked for they were too well trained and stay together in numbers. But their city watch made up of former slaves and innocent smallfolk were killed every day. Daenerys had a member of every great family in Meereen imprisoned for several days.

It was at Hizdar’s insistence that they agreed to open the fighting pits and release their prisoners. For the past sennight, Meereen had finally seen peace. _Does the killing of men for sport really appease the rich in this city?_

 

The fighting pit they found themselves in was nothing more than a patch of dirt with a slightly raised stone platform covered by a tent for them to view the fighting. Hizdar was already there waiting for them. Jon led the way with Visenya at his side while she walked next to Daenerys. She could tell Ser Arthur was uneasy with them being so close to men bearing steel who they did not trust. _Let any of these fools try and attack us with Ghost and Shadow here._

“Sitting through the Great Games will be bad enough,” Daenerys said as she took her seat between Jon and Hizdar. Rhaenys took the seat next to Visenya with Shadow at her feet. It was a relatively cool day and her direwolf seemed to enjoy not having to sweat under a blazing sun.

“For generations, in the days leading up to the Great Games, the rulers of Meereen visited lower pits to pay the fighter the honor of their presence,” Hizdar replied to Daenerys.

To their right, Rhaenys saw fighters begin to filter into the pit through a wooden gate. The men looked to be from all over Essos. Each wielded different weapons and donned unique armor that looked poorly made. She deduced the man leading them into the pit and placing them into orderly positions was a former master by the clothes he wore. _Are these men still slaves?_

“We fight and die for your glory, oh glorious King!” the fighters yelled in unison. Rhaenys just rolled her eyes at the pageantry. _If they are going to lie, they would do well to at least remember their Queens are in attendance as well._

A moment later, the men were hacking away at each other with no real skill in her eyes. Rhaenys did not see the appeal for anyone who was not bloodthirsty. Even some of the most unworthy knights of Westeros would have made short work of these men in her mind.

She turned to her sister as the last two fighters began dueling one another. “Allyria did not think to join us?” she asked, wondering where her best friend was. Allyria usually travelled with them when they went out into the city.

“Where do you think? She is in love,” her little sister responded with a slight smile. “I was the same in Qarth. I never left Jon’s side for a moment. I am sure she feels the same for Willas.”

“You’re right. I should have known better. I wish them a long and happy marriage when the day comes,” she replied. It warmed her heart to know Allyria had found a good and noble man to marry, especially given their current circumstances. Those warm thoughts were killed the moment her eyes drifted to a man losing his head.

“This was the wrong decision. We should not have opened the fighting pits,” Visenya said in a hushed tone so only she or Jon could hear.

“I do not like it, but we cannot reverse course now. At least not so soon. We will look indecisive if we closed them,” she told Visenya who acknowledged her point. Visenya looked like she wanted to be anywhere else in the world but here. Daenerys looked the same, fidgeting her hands and ducking her head to turn her eyes from the senseless bloodshed as a new set of fighters began. “Do not worry sister, we will be sailing for Westeros within a year and you will not have to see this.”

“It is still our city to rule. I will not leave it like this,” Visenya vowed with a look of utter contempt for the small crowd of people who were cheering the killing around the fighting pit.

 

“I saw the children have new toys,” her mother said from across the table illuminated by candlelight on the terrace.

“Yes, Jon made them himself,” Rhaenys proudly proclaimed with her hand resting over her stomach. “I did not know it. I am still trying to work out where he found the time to do it.”

“I am so proud of you, my daughter,” her mother said.

“Why?” she asked. _What have I done to earn her praise?_

“Your children. The way you care for them and raise them. I have seen good mothers and bad. You will be one of the great ones. And a great Queen I think,” her mother answered with a bright smile.

“Thank you, Mother. I could not have done it without you. Everything I know about being a mother, I learned from you and Lyanna. It is all overwhelming sometimes,” Rhaenys replied, thinking on the great moments and the struggles of being a mother.

“You give me too much credit. Just be sure to teach your daughters everything you know. She may be little and speaks few words, but I can tell Nymeria will grow to be just like you. It would be hard to tell you apart when you were her age,” her mother said.

“We named her after a warrior princess. She will likely be more like Visenya,” Rhaenys said, thinking of the bad influence Visenya would play in her life. _My sister will try to teach all the girls how to swing a sword if she has her way._

Her mother laughed before continuing, “So, how are things with Jon?”

“Wonderful. Everything has been wonderful. I could not have asked for a better husband and King. I know everyone thinks Jon does not smile or have a sense of humor, but he makes me laugh and smiles for me,” she replied, ending her thoughts of Jon at that. _He does much more to please me._

“It is a difficult thing to share a husband with another wife. Lyanna and I were lucky with your father. I hope it is the same with your sister and Daenerys,” her mother added.

“It is. Jon makes sure to show his love and dedication to me. I will admit, I sometimes crave having him all for myself. But I could not do that to Daenerys or Visenya. They would not do that to me,” she mused.

“I know it would change many things, but I still wish your father and brother were here to see you. To see the Queen and mother you have become. To see you ride a dragon and rule cities,” her mother said.

“I do too,” she answered, thinking about how her family’s lives had changed so much.

One thing Rhaenys did not bring up to her mother nor anyone else was her internal struggle over her love for Aegon. She still missed her brother and wished he were alive. _But I have fallen in love with Jon and cannot see a life without him. Without our children._ It was a horrible feeling whenever it entered her mind. She lost her first love, but found another. _I hope Aegon would be happy for me. For us._

 

 

**Sansa Stark**

It had been nearly four moons ago when Sansa reached the Eyrie after escaping King’s Landing during Joffrey’s wedding. She cursed herself for almost not fleeing when Ser Dontos urged her to follow him away from the feast while Joffrey choked on his wine, spitting out blood. _He deserved it. I wish Cersei had met the same end._

Lord Baelish being the one to orchestrate her escape was not the surprising part of her journey. What was surprising was his betrayal of the Lannisters and using her necklace to do it. _Who could have ripped one of the fake stones from the necklace? I cannot remember who had the chance._ Baelish avoided mentioning who is new friends were and she decided not to ask, assuming he would have told her if he wanted her to know. _Ser Dontos was a fool to trust Littlefinger. I will not make the same mistake. You can trust no one in this world._

Even though she could not trust the man who freed her, she preferred him to her Aunt Lysa. Her aunt was younger than her mother, but one could not tell by her appearance. She looked old and unkept. Sansa also sensed she made for a terrible mother. Robin was a weak boy and spoiled. _Has anyone ever told him no? It does not matter. I should not have hit him._

Earlier in the day, she had hit her cousin after destroying a Winterfell snow castle. Baelish told her not to worry. That his mother should have done it long ago. When he kissed her, she only felt more confused about Baelish and his motives. _Does he see my mother when he looks at me? Does he actually love me? Or am I another to be manipulated and used like all the others? It may be all._

Now she found herself walking through the halls of the Eyrie, on her way to the High Hall at the request of her Aunt Lysa. One of the maids came to her room and let her know her presence was requested. _I should not have hit him._

When she finally reached the High Hall, she found her aunt sitting on one of the benches near the Moon Door. Sansa preferred to stay away from the thing. She did not understand how anyone could get used to these heights.

“You wanted to see me Aunt Lysa?” she asked.

“Come here Sansa,” her aunt requested. Sansa complied and walked over to the Lady of the Eyrie. Just as she approached, her aunt stood and looked down through the Moon Door. The whistle of the air from below was unnerving and filled the High Hall during this quiet night. “I know what you did.”

“I am so sorry Aunt Lysa. I never should have hit Robin. I know it was wrong. I promise, it will not happen again,” she swore, trying to sound as apologetic as she possibly could. She knew her Aunt was liable to turn her over to the Lannisters or worse. _She acts like she cares for me, but she did not help my mother or Robb when they needed her._

“Don’t be coy with me you little whore,” Lysa hissed. She continued, “You kissed him. You kissed Petyr.”

“I didn’t. I swear. It was not…,” she tried to get out before her aunt lunged at her and grabbed her arm. She was stronger than Sansa thought. It felt like her arm was about to be torn off.

“I saw it. You cannot lie to me. I saw you with my own eyes,” her aunt said with anger written on her face.

“I promise, he kissed me. I pulled away,” she replied hoping she could get out of this. Her response only seemed to enrage Lysa and her aunt pulled her by her hair. She was being shoved towards the open Moon Door.

“Liar. Whore. Petyr is mine. My father, my husband, my sister, they all stood between us and now they are dead. That’s what happens when people stand between Petyr and me,” Lysa screamed in her ears while shoving her head over the ledge along the Moon Door. “Look down. Look down. Look down. Look down.”

“Lysa!” she heard Baelish call from the other side of the High Hall. “Let her go.”

“You want her. This empty-headed child. I love you. I lied for you. I killed my husband for you. Why did you bring her here? Why?” her aunt yelled while still gripping her hair. _She killed Jon Arryn?_

“I’ll send her away. I swear on my life. I swear to all the gods. Let her go Lysa,” she heard Baelish say calmly, approaching them. At his urging, Lysa finally released her and Sansa backed away from the Moon Door as soon as she could.

She looked over at her crying aunt who fell into her husband’s arms. _She sobs like the pathetic woman she is._ “Oh, my sweet wife. My sweet, silly wife. I have only loved one woman. Only one woman my entire life. Your sister,” Baelish said in a hushed tone consoling Lysa before pushing her by the chest through the Moon Door behind her.

Lysa’s scream could be heard for the briefest of moments before disappearing into the howling winds blowing below the Eyrie. Sansa did not know what to say. Baelish had Joffrey poisoned and now killed her aunt in front of her. _Will I be next? I know too much. I now know he had Jon Arryn killed as well._

“What are we going to do? The lords of the Vale will think we murdered her? They will hand me over to the Lannisters,” she said, hoping he still believed she was on his side. _I still am. I do not know anyone in the Vale. I do not trust Baelish, but I do trust him not to hand me over to the Lannisters or kill me._

“Do not worry child. Lysa was a troubled woman. Troubled women make terrible decisions and take their own lives,” he answered her concerns. She could tell he had planned for this. _He may have not planned to kill her this night, but he did plan to. He was ready for this outcome._ “The lords of the Vale will have questions and we will provide them the right answers.”

 

It had been over a fortnight since Baelish had pushed her aunt through the Moon Door and the castellan of the Eyrie had kept everyone in the castle so they could answer to the lords of the Vale. She was sure to face questions of what had happened and if Lord Baelish had anything to do with it. Everyone besides Baelish and Robin still thought her to be Alayne Stone, his bastard niece from the Fingers.

In the past three days, she had seen multiple lords ride down the narrow road leading to the gates of the Eyrie. On the first day, she saw the green banners with a broken black wheel of House Waynwood. The second day saw the white banners with three ravens clutching hearts of House Corbray. Earlier this day, Sansa saw a large contingent riding up to the Eyrie led by men holding flame red banners with a yellow tower for House Grafton and bronze banners with black iron studs of House Royce. At the end of their column rode a man in shining silver armor and a sky-blue cape. With him rode several men bearing the sigil of House Arryn. _He must be Harrold Arryn._

It was near midday and Sansa had been waiting outside a room she had not visited her entire time within the Eyrie. As she understood it, Lord Baelish was being interrogated by Harrold Arryn and the lords of the Eyrie. _Or so I was told by the knight who escorted me from my room to the bench in the corridor I now sit upon._ The man was a Royce she thought by the sigil upon his doublet.

_I will need to play the innocent child. Baelish wants me to play his role, but I will play my own. The lords of the Vale knew my father. I can take the chance they will not harm me. And I am not the greatest liar. They may see this Alayne Stone lie for the mummer’s farce that it is._

“Lady Stone, please follow me,” the Royce man stepped from the doorway, requesting her presence. She obliged and stood from the marble bench to follow him into the room. There, she found Baelish sitting before several lords and a lady.

From what she could tell, the old man with the odd-looking armor was Bronze Yohn Royce of Runestone. On either side of him sat Lord Gerold Grafton of Gulltown, who she had seen when they arrived at his city’s port, and Lady Anya Waynwood, an old woman with short greying hair in a dress typical to ladies of the Vale. At the far right next to Lady Waynwood sat Lord Lyonel Corbray of Heart’s Home, a man in his forties. On the left side of the room sat a handsome man with sandy hair and blue eyes. Sansa thought he could be no more than three years older than Robb. _This must be Harrold Arryn._

“Come closer child. You have nothing to fear from us, or him,” Lady Waynwood said, looking towards Baelish. She continued, “We understand Lord Baelish is your uncle. Your name is Alayne? Perhaps you would be more comfortable if Lord Baelish left the room.”

“He can stay…” she mumbled, playing the scared and innocent girl as she heard Baelish try to protest his removal.

“Speak up girl, you are not a damn kitchen mouse,” Yohn Royce interrupted. “Tell us what you saw!”

“Sorry lord Baelish, I have to tell the truth,” she turned to tell Littlefinger. “I’ll tell you everything,” she said, looking back at the lords and lady.

“Please, Alayne, leave nothing out,” Lady Waynwood replied.

“My name is not Alayne. I am Sansa Stark of Winterfell. Eldest daughter of Lord Eddard,” she said as their faces turned to shock.

“Sansa Stark,” Yohn Royce replied with a stunned look before turning to look at Baelish. She could tell the old man was furious at Baelish for lying to them. _I still remember Father’s stories from his time in the Vale. He always said Lord Royce was a man of great honor._

“You truly are Sansa Stark?” Harrold Arryn asked. She nodded to confirm his disbelief. “King Jon will be pleased to hear of your safety, as will Queen Visenya and Queen Lyanna. They were concerned for your safety in King’s Landing.” _So, the rumors are true. Visenya married Jon._

“You have spoken to my cousins? Here in the Vale?” she asked. _If Harrold Arryn has declared for House Targaryen, then my plans can change. I can tell them the actual truth._

“Not in the Vale. In Slaver’s Bay or the Bay of Dragons as it is called now. I saw our King and Queens in Meereen before I set sail for Westeros some moons ago my lady. I intend to raise House Arryn’s banners for our one true King when he returns,” Harrold said.

“My Lord, I must tell you the truth. Lord Baelish saved me from my Aunt Lysa. She saw Lord Baelish kiss me, but it was nothing my lords. A simple kiss on the cheek. She wanted to push me through the Moon Door, but he stopped her,” she said before glancing back to see Littlefinger with slight smirk on his lips. “It was then I heard her confess to killing Jon Arryn. Lord Baelish then pushed her.”

“Lord Baelish!” Yohn Royce roared, standing from his seat, reaching for his sword sheathed at his hip.

Sansa turned around to see Lord Baelish jump from his seat and run out the door behind her. _Where does he think he will escape to?_ Harrold Arryn and Lord Royce spilled out into the corridor with their swords drawn. She followed wanting to see what fate would meet Littlefinger.

The clash of steel could be heard further down the halls and Sansa carefully approached the sound of swords clattering against sword and armor. She saw three men whose loyalty belonged to Baelish lying dead in pools of their own blood along the marble floors. It was not until they reached the High Hall that she saw nearly two dozen men fighting. Somehow Baelish had grabbed Robin Arryn along the way with a blade against the boy’s throat. _One of his men must have gotten to him._

Harrold Arryn and three of Yohn Royce’s sons were cutting through Baelish’s men. One of the men defending Littlefinger was Lord Lyonel’s own brother, Ser Lyn Corbray, who she had met two moons ago. He began to fight Lord Harrold and the two appeared evenly matched. From all the stories she had heard, Ser Lyn was a renowned knight who knew his way around a sword.

For every blow brought down upon the nephew of Jon Arryn, Harrold was quick to parry and duck swings toward his head. Harrold finally managed to trip Ser Lyn and take him off his feet before driving his sword into the man’s throat. Sansa turned to find Lord Lyonel beside her with a look of anger, but not towards the man who had killed his brother. _It is only Ser Lyn who was in Baelish’s employ._

Finally, it was just Baelish holding a dagger to Robin Arryn’s throat next to the Moon Door with Harrold Arryn and the Royces pointing their blades at him. “Give this up Littlefinger. You are trapped with nowhere to go. Release our Lord and you will be given a quick death,” Yohn Royce demanded while Robin began to cry.

“I have your Lord. Put your swords down and bid me safe passage,” Baelish demanded, thinking he would still get away. _He thought I would be too scared and distrusting of others. He thought I would continue to do as he said. He was wrong._

“Hand him over Baelish and you will be given a trial like any other man accused of murder,” Harrold Arryn answered. “But if you think you will get a trial by combat, you are mad.”

“Lady Sansa, please. I loved you like a daughter. I loved your mother,” Baelish pleaded.

“Hand Robin over Lord Baelish,” she replied.

Harrold stepped forward to take Robin away from Littlefinger as he removed the blade from the boy’s throat and eased his grip on Robin’s shoulder. Just as Harrold reached for his cousin, Baelish raised his dagger to strike at the Lord. But Baelish knew nothing of fighting and Harrold was much faster and stronger, grabbing Baelish’s arm before he could bring his dagger down.

Sansa watched with intensity as Harrold flung Baelish back and drove his sword into his stomach. The High Hall was silent as his dagger clattered against the marble floor while he reached for his bleeding stomach. Baelish stumbled back, spitting out blood before turning to grab a crying Robin Arryn. When he lost is balance, he fell through the Moon Door, bringing a screaming Robin Arryn with him.

Harrold Arryn screamed as he watched his cousin perish. Sansa felt sorry for her cousin, no matter how much of a spoiled and sickly boy he was. _Did Baelish intend to see Robin killed? Or did he think he could still use him as his hostage to get out of here before bleeding out?_ Sansa would never know.

After taking her eyes from the Moon Door, she focused on the new Lord of the Eyrie and Protector of the Vale, Lord Harrold Arryn. She hoped he would see her safely returned to the North. Surely, he would comply, considering he was allied with her Targaryen cousins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They can fly dragons now and that means the Targaryens will leave Meereen in a few chapters. I wish I could have been more creative and given Baelish a better end. Feel like I did not do the character justice. Sansa will not appear again for some time. Next chapter is the longest one yet w/ Jon, Visenya, & Daenerys POVs.


	26. Castle Black

**Jon Targaryen**

The sun was beginning to set over the western horizon as Jon looked to Visenya flying to his left atop Silverclaw through the cold and harsh northern air. It had been four days since they had flown from Meereen. The first day saw them make it all the way across the Dothraki Sea to its southwestern edge. On the second day, they reached the Royne and made camp on top of a high hill overlooking the great river. Earlier this day, they had set off from lands south of Braavos along the Narrow Sea.

Jon guessed they must have reached Westeros somewhere between Ramsgate and Widow’s Watch, considering shortly thereafter he could make out the Broken Branch from his vantage point flying Vermithrex. It warmed his heart to see the North again, but it was a fleeting feeling for he was not here to visit his cousin at Winterfell nor hunt in the Wolfswood. He was flying to the Wall to aid the Night’s Watch and protect his Uncle Aemon. _If Castle Black falls, he will die, along with countless northerners. My people._

He looked over again to see a slight smile painted on his wife’s face. Visenya insisted on accompanying him on his trip to Castle Black. They must have fought over it for three days or more before he finally relented. Her safety was too precious for him to risk in a battle where they were sure to be outnumbered one hundred to one, even with the dragons.

Behind Visenya’s smile, Jon could also see her pain and regret. While she was eager to return to the North and see Aemon, he could sense her despair at leaving their newborn babes behind. She had given him a son, Rickard, and a daughter, Rhaenyra, both possessing her eyes and his raven hair. He tried to warn her that she would regret leaving them behind after only spending two moons with them. _We do not know how long we will be gone and I can barely stand leaving them._

His children filled his thoughts in the air as he had become more accustomed to flying. It still felt amazing, but its wonder had faded some. He could not talk to Visenya during their flight, so he spent his time remembering his children’s faces and the memories he held of Daenerys and Rhaenys. Daenerys also bore him two new sons, Benjen and Daemon. Both had her amethyst eyes paired with his hair. Rhaenys gave him two sons, Aeryn and Edric. Each had his hair, but Aeryn inherited his family’s Valyrian eyes while Edric had his Stark grey.

The sight of the Wall ahead was a relief. He wanted to reach Castle Black before nightfall and now Jon saw their destination slowly grow larger in the distance. He looked behind to see Sonar and Stormfyre beating their wings furiously to keep up. Vyraxes and Darkskye were following close behind Silverclaw. _Six dragons should be enough to hold off the wildlings. I hope it does not come to that._

A short time after Castle Black came into view, Jon nodded to Visenya before starting their descent upon the castle. All six dragons made their presence known with their cries waking every brother of the Night’s Watch. From the air, Jon could see men rushing out into the training yard he was familiar with and climbing the stairs of the Castle’s wooden walls.

They made a soft landing just outside the gate of the castle, but far enough away that they could not be hit by an archer. Jon did not know if the brothers expected their arrival nor could predict one’s reaction to seeing a dragon for the first time. He slowly made his way off Vermithrex’s shoulder with his feet finding solid ground to stand on. He made sure to pat his dragon’s snout before whispering in Valyrian for his mount to go make a lair to stay in away from the castle.

“We are finally here,” Visenya beamed in her black cloak lined with fur, much like his own. He pulled his cloak tighter, adjusting to the northern chill while carrying a pack with their food and clothing.

“Yes. I admit, I worried it would not be here when we arrived,” he confessed pulling her in to warm her and himself. _Now I must protect the Watch from the wildlings and my wife from the Watch._

They were broken apart at the sound of the gate opening with several brothers in black marching out to greet them. Leading the men was what looked like Ser Alliser Thorne, who was the Master at Arms of Castle Black during his time at the Wall. Thorne was an unpleasant man, but he and his House were loyal Targaryen supporters.

“My King,” Ser Alliser said without bending the knee. It was not a sign of disrespect. They were still in the realm, but he did not command the Night’s Watch. No king did. “We are grateful for your assistance. With your dragons, the wildlings won’t stand a chance.”

“Thank you, Ser Alliser, but I would like to avoid burning the wildlings if I can. Now it has been a long journey from Meereen. If you would, please lead us to our uncle, and I would like to speak to Samwell Tarly.”

“As you wish your Grace,” Ser Alliser bowed his head and turned around to lead them into Castle Black.

Once inside Castle Black, he could see every man standing around looking at them in awe. It was the same reaction every man had shown when first laying eyes upon their dragons. He could not blame them. Jon still found it hard to believe he and Daenerys had brought back the great beasts the world had not seen in a century.

Ser Alliser led the way to the flight of stairs that led to Aemon’s quarters that he remembered from his time here, all those years ago. They eventually found themselves at his door and ready to enter to see their oldest living relative. “Ser Alliser, I must insist that my Queen is guarded by your most honorable men if she is ever alone without me during our stay here.”

“Consider it done your Grace,” the Master at Arms responded before leaving them to speak with their uncle.

Visenya pushed the door open and he followed behind her to find the room was lit with candles. Uncle Aemon was sitting by a lit hearth across from his best friend, Samwell Tarly. “Uncle!” his sister-wife said with glee as she rushed over to gently hug their old and frail uncle. Jon walked over to embrace Sam, who he had not seen since the King’s Tourney. _I will always show my gratitude to my friend who assisted me with acquiring the armor, horse, and squires to win the tourney for Dany._

“Sam, my friend,” he said while hugging the former heir to Horn Hill. He heard Aemon mention something of their arrival and the sound of dragons singing to his sister. “How did you end up a brother of the Night’s Watch. I may have guessed to find you at the Citadel, studying to become a maester.”

“My father,” was all his friend could get out. He understood and just nodded his head, not wanting to bring up sour memories. Jon knew Randyll Tarly was a stern and tough old man, but he could not imagine he would send Sam to the Wall, despite how he treated him. _I will never send a son of mine to the Wall. Perhaps the Watch held honor and prestige in the past, but those days were gone._

“Well it is good to see you my friend. I wish it was under different circumstances, but I am glad to see you alive and well,” he said.

“I heard you married Visenya and Rhaenys. That you are a father,” Sam replied. _Word travels, even to Castle Black._

“Aye. Too many children to count now,” he jested before looking briefly at Visenya engaged in an animated conversation with their uncle. _Those two could speak for hours about Targaryen history and the tales of Old Valyria._ “So, my friend, please tell me what we face. What has happened beyond the Wall?”

“Three years ago, we brought the bodies of several slain brothers through the tunnel after finding them. Before we could burn them, one came back, but not alive. Something else. We now call them wights. Soldiers for the Army of the Dead. After the wight attacked Lord Commander Mormont, he led a great ranging beyond the Wall. We made it near the Frostfangs before they attacked us. We lost most of our men. Qhorin Halfhand never returned. When those of us who were left made it back to Craster’s Keep, several brothers led a mutiny and killed Commander Mormont. I barely made it out alive with Gilly,” Sam described his tale. _Who is Gilly?_ Jon noticed Visenya and Aemon were now listening to Sam’s story.

“They’re real, the White Walkers. I saw them at the Fist of the First Men. I killed one in the Haunted Forest. I do not know how. I just feared for Gilly and stabbed him. Their ice blades shatter steel, but the dragonglass dagger I had shattered the White Walker. It is some old magic of some kind perhaps. Whatever it is, dragonglass can kill White Walkers. Fire kills the wights, so your dragons should help with that,” Sam continued.

“Dragonglass you say?” Visenya asked, earning a nod from Sam. “We have dragonglass on Dragonstone. Mountains of it.” _She is right. Our favorite cave along the beach near our castle holds plenty. Enough to forge weapons for an army._

“Sam, when you get a chance, send a raven tonight to Dragonstone. With my blessing, instruct Ser Jonothor to oversee the mining of dragonglass. If what you say is true, we will need it,” he told his friend, knowing his penmanship was excellent.

“What of Mance Rayder and his wildling army?” Visenya questioned.

“He has gathered all of them. Every wildling has joined him. The Halfhand said they likely number near two hundred thousand. Only half of them can fight. And they have giants,” Sam warned them. Jon had heard the stories of giants from several rangers before. _Now I will have to fight them._ “They will be here soon. They have raided the villages and farms that are still populated in the Gift. When they arrive, we think they will attack both sides.”

_They will. Mance Rayder is not stupid. He was once a brother of the Watch. He knows its strengths and weaknesses. An attack from the south cannot be easily repelled at Castle Black. The first attack will be to gauge the strength of the Watch. The second, he will send everything he has against us._

“Where is my Uncle Benjen?” he asked, wondering if the First Ranger was at another castle, overseeing the defenses atop the Wall, or scouting the army marching on Castle Black.

“He went missing beyond the Wall nearly three years ago. No one has seen him,” Sam informed him. Jon felt his stomach turn as he realized he had lost another uncle. Visenya came into his side to hug him. He pulled her close, hoping to comfort her. “Jon, there is another thing. I saw Bran.”

“You saw Bran?” he asked. “Where?”

“I let him through the Wall, at the Nightfort. He was with Hodor, Jojen Reed, Meera Reed, and his direwolf, Summer,” Sam said.

“Why? Why did you not bring him here? Where was Rickon?” he demanded with frustration.

“It is hard to tell someone what to do when they have a direwolf. You know I cannot fight. Rickon was sent to Last Hearth to stay with the Umbers. They said something about finding a three-eyed raven. I didn’t understand, but Jojen Reed made it sound important. I am sorry Jon,” Sam apologized.

“It is not your fault Sam,” Visenya said.

Jon turned away from those in the room to contemplate how they would handle all of these problems. _Bran, Mance Rayder, the wildlings, the Army of the Dead, the White Walkers._

“There was a mutiny at Craster’s Keep? Do you think they are still there?” he asked Sam.

“I cannot see why not. It provides shelter and Craster always held more food than he let on. All his wives were fed somehow,” Sam answered.

“Go Jon. You need to do this before Mance reaches them,” Aemon spoke up.

“I do not understand,” Visenya followed up.

“If Mance reaches the mutineers before we do, he will get answers from them. Answers that will lead to a full-on attack of Castle Black. Mance has everything he needs to defeat us. He just does not know it yet. And if I am lucky, I may find our cousin on my way there,” he told her, seeing her eyes dart back and forth with worry.

“Then send brothers of the Night’s Watch. They know the lands better than you. You are the King. Dany and Rhae would say the same. Do not go,” she insisted.

“I must. Bran is out there and Castle Black needs to hold out until Robb or another lord comes with an army. I had hoped grandmother would have sent some men from Dragonstone by now, but we must fight with what we have. These men cannot be taken prisoner,” he defended himself. Visenya shook her head and simmered with anger towards his decision.

“Jon, you should get some rest. The both of you. I am sure the journey here was long and taxing on you both. Sam, see them to their quarters,” Uncle Aemon interrupted. Jon was glad he did so, for he feared a heated argument with Visenya.

Jon considered himself lucky that Visenya was so tired, that they fell quick asleep in the small, uncomfortable bed provided to them. He did not care how poor the accommodations were. As long as he held Visenya in his arms with her body warming his bed, he was happy with his current situation.

 

_None of the men in Castle Black better touch Senya while I am away. If they do, Silverclaw will burn them and half the castle._ Jon focused on the men occasionally wondering in and out of the old wooden buildings that made up Craster’s Keep. They were definitely brothers of the Night’s Watch by the look of their clothes, but these men were traitors and the worst of the lot. _That is saying a lot._

He gripped his sword and looked back at the men who had volunteered to follow him and seek justice for the slain Lord Commander. Grenn and Edd Tollett were crouched behind the trees like he was, gripping their swords, ready to attack.

The two men quickly became his friends during the two-day ride through the Haunted Forest. They were both friends with Sam and looked out for him during their time at Castle Black. The Watch could be unforgiving for the weak and Jon knew someone must have been looking out for his friend. Sam was smart, but he could not fight or ever really stand up for himself.

He finally saw their chance to move in undetected and kill as many men as possible before giving them a chance to launch an organized defense. _That is, if they are organized and smart._ Jon waved his hand forward and he rushed through the snow-covered ground to the nearest building under darkness.

When he rounded the corner of the building, he saw a man drinking out of his wineskin, completely unaware of his impending death. Jon crept up silently behind the unsuspecting man and removed his dagger from his belt. Quickly, he drove his dagger into the man’s throat while covering his mouth so any screams could not be heard.

His efforts were wasted when he heard yells from across the keep and the clattering of steel. There were nearly two dozen mutineers by their count and Jon had only brought thirteen men with him. They were outnumbered and he only killed one before they were discovered. He rushed into the building to his right with Longclaw drawn. All he found inside were two young women who were Craster’s daughters.

Moving back out into the yard, he found one of his older men, named Martyn Rivers, fighting a man with an axe. Jon rushed over to help the fight and cut the mutineer’s arm in two before his axe could fall upon Martyn. Jon turned around and saw Edd and Grenn cutting down a man.

Jon ran through the clearing before the largest of the structures which was Craster’s home. Kicking the door open, he found a mutineer plunging his knife into the eye of one of the men he had led on this expedition. The killer turned around, skillfully flipping his knives in his hands, ready for a fight. _This one must be Karl. He may be a skilled killer, but how many soldiers has he fought?_

“Come to bring me back? To kill me? We have a good thing here. We are free men. You will never be free. Who the fuck are you anyways?” the man asked, scraping his knives together, eager for a fight.

“Jon Targaryen,” he simply answered, raising Longclaw. He approached the assassin from Gin Alley. His approach was denied as his opponent kicked over the pot above the fire and sent the ashes below flying. _He does not realize fire cannot hurt a dragon._ Jon sidestepped the pot and ashes in order to protect his clothing in the harsh weather this far north.

He swung his sword at the man who was quick and agile. But he was not as fast as himself. Every time he attacked Karl, he struck air and failed to end the fight in the time he would have liked. “Did your knights teach you how to parry? To fight with honor?” Karl asked while slashing at him. _He thinks I care about fighting with honor against him? In battle?_

Jon shoved his knives away with Longclaw and moved forward to strike again. This time, Karl nearly struck his shoulder with his blade. He felt lucky when he ducked away from the cut and lifted his sword to strike up at his enemy’s throat. His blade was stopped by the man’s two fighting knives. Knowing the man was going to spit in his face to blind and insult him, Jon thought quickly and drew his dagger, driving it into Karl’s left eye.

There was a look of surprise for a second before the man dropped dead on the ground. Wiping the blood that had covered his face, Jon gathered his surroundings and decided to join the fighting outside. Exiting the warmth of the keep into the ice-cold air, Jon saw he had ten men left. They were all looking around, wondering if they had gotten them all.

“I think I killed their leader. If what you said of this Karl was true, I saw his skill with the knife firsthand,” Jon told Grenn.

“Where is Rast?” Edd asked, looking around. Everyone shrugged, not knowing where this man was.

“It does not matter. He will not last by himself in this cold,” Jon said. _I hope the cold kills him before the wildlings can find him._

“We found two of the traitors with their heads caved in. We didn’t do it,” Grenn said. Jon figured they must have betrayed the mutineers in charge and were murdered for doing so.

He turned around to Craster’s wives who had gathered outside near them. “We can take you south of the Wall. You will be safe there. We can find you food, shelter, and work.”

“Safe? Sorry crow, but we will find our own way. We can feed and defend ourselves,” the oldest of them answered.

“You will stay here, at Craster’s Keep?” he asked, disbelieving their willingness to stay. He had heard the stories of Craster and his wives.

The old woman spit on the ground, “Burn it to the ground. We will not stay here.”

Jon looked back at Grenn and gave him permission to burn the keep to the ground. Bran was nowhere to be found. It was a small hope, but just that. _Hope._ Bran had crossed the Wall months ago. He could be anywhere in the Haunted Forest or elsewhere.

 

They were riding hard for Castle Black through the dark woods after seeing the fires of Mance’s camp only a few miles away from a hill near Craster’s Keep. Castle Black would soon face a wildling army that was now fast approaching. Jon could see the wall through the break in the trees and urged his horse to move faster.

It was the cry of Silverclaw overhead that drew his gaze to the sky as the edge of the forest stood a mile away. The silver scales of the dragon could be seen glimmering in the sky above. He worried Visenya was flying north to save him, but he did not see her on Silverclaw.

The dragon finally swooped down into the forest. There must have been a clearing, for he did not hear a crash or the destruction of trees from where the dragon landed. Jon pulled on the reigns of his black horse and turned to his left, off their path into the woods. Jon wound his horse through the thick wooded forest, finally coming upon Silverclaw digging up the dirt before a great weirwood tree.

_This must be the weirwood Uncle Benjen and all the other followers of the Old Gods make their Night’s Watch vows._ He looked at the carved face on the tree, much like the one in Winterfell. The sight of Visenya’s dragon digging into the ground with countless crows lining the branches of the tree, squawking made for an odd scene.

Wondering what had gotten into the dragon, Jon dismounted from his saddle and approached the dragon. Silverclaw noticed his boots crunching against the fresh snow and turned her head, before backing away from the hole she had dug.

Jon walked closer and found an old, worn wooden box in the ground. _What could be inside that brought Silverclaw across the Wall to dig this up?_ Curious of what lay inside, he pulled the relatively light box from the dirt and up onto the snow-covered ground. Wiping the dirt off the top with his leather gloves, Jon found the latch to open the discovery.

Inside the box, he removed a green cloth to find a sword sheathed in an unremarkable scabbard. When his eyes moved to the hilt and handle of the blade, he could not believe what he was seeing. The golden flamed pommel and gold cross-guard with a bright ruby at its center was familiar to him. He unsheathed the blade and took in the slender Valyrian steel. _This is Dark Sister. The sword wielded by Visenya, last seen with Bloodraven when he joined the Night’s Watch. He must have left it here._

As he stared at the blade wondering how they had gotten so fortunate to reclaim this precious Targaryen heirloom, he looked up at the crows staring back at him. They gave him an eerie feeling before they all finally flew off past Silverclaw. He had never seen one of their dragons so calm around other creatures besides their direwolves.

Knowing he was holding up their return to Castle Black, Jon sheathed Dark Sister and wrapped the sword back into the cloth. Stowing it with his belongings on the back of his saddle, he hopped back on his horse and led their party back south.

The ride to Castle Black was short in distance, but felt like forever in his mind. The gate could not be raised fast enough. As soon as the heavy, impenetrable gate lifted, Jon rode through the tunnel to find his wife and show her what he had found.

Waiting for him in the training yard outside the tunnel within Castle Black, he locked his eyes on Visenya. She was standing next to Ser Alliser in her black clothes and heavily furred cloak. It was a stark contrast to her beautiful Valyrian hair. He was quick to slide off his horse and pull her in for a hug.

“I am glad you are safe. I was beginning to worry. When Silverclaw flew north a while ago, I feared the worst,” she said against his chest before looking up into his eyes. “Did you lose any men?”

“Some. We killed them all. Well, one got away, but I am not worried. We could see Mance’s army. They will be here soon. But never mind that for now,” he said. “Follow me. I have something to give you.”

She gave him a questioning look while taking his hand. He pulled her to Dark Sister, wrapped up on the back of his horse’s saddle. He removed it from its place and tore the cloth away so she could see the hilt that was unmistakable.

Visenya ran her hands over the ruby incrusted cross-guard down the grip to the flamed pommel. She looked up with her soft, amethyst eyes filled with wonder and awe. She had always loved reading about their past and this was a significant part of it. Visenya and Dark Sister inspired his sister to start training with a sword.

“This…. This is Dark Sister,” she mumbled as he pulled the blade a few inches from its scabbard to show her its Valyrian steel.

“It is. Silverclaw discovered it buried under the ground around a weirwood tree in the Haunted Forest,” he answered. He handed her the sword and she pulled it from its sheath. _She looks perfect with Dark Sister in her hands._

“This is amazing,” she observed, moving the sword around to see how it felt. “Here,” she tried to hand it back to him. He held up his hand to refuse her.

“No, it belongs to you,” he told her. She opened her mouth, struggling to find the words. Jon could see she was surprised he would give her this gift. _Her dragon found it. It belongs to her. She is named after Visenya who wielded the blade after all._

“No, I can’t. You are our King. This sword belongs to the head of our family now that we no longer possess Blackfyre,” she said, trying to hand it back to him.

“You were meant to have it Visenya. I already have Longclaw. I want you to have it. Make our family proud and protect yourself and our children with it. Silverclaw was the one to find it. You were meant to wield it, not me,” he told her. A tear escaped her eye and he was quick to wipe it from her cheek.

“Thank you, my love,” she whispered into his ear after hopping up into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist and arms around his neck with Dark Sister still in her hand. It was not very queenly of her to display such affection for all of Castle Black to see, but he did not care.

 

 

**Visenya Targaryen**

The fire warmed her from the cold night air and the occasional gust of wind that swept across the top of the Wall. She sat against the ice, staring into the dancing flames, knowing the wildling attack was likely to come this night. Her cloak was still wrapped tightly around her torso, but she planned to discard it once the battle came. _I cannot fight with that thing on. And in the midst of battle, who needs furs to keep themselves warm?_

She tried to stop herself from clinging to Dark Sister like a little girl who protected a new doll, but she could not help herself. The sword was her new obsession. She could not wait to show it to her mother. _Will my daughter Dany wield this sword one day or perhaps Jon?_

The sound of Jon’s voice approaching drew her attention from the fire and she saw him laughing to himself before coming to sit down next to her, placing his arm around her shoulders. “What are you laughing about?” she asked, leaning her head against his shoulder.

“Nothing, just Sam,” he said. She looked up at him, seeking a further explanation. He seemed to understand her expecting look she displayed when she wanted answers. “He was asking me what it is like to be with a girl.”

“You didn’t tell him about us?” she asked. _I’ll drive Dark Sister through his heart if he thinks about sharing such things._

“No, of course not. I just spoke about the feeling of being with someone you love and…,” he stopped, fighting to find the words. “I don’t know. It’s like I told him, I am not a bloody poet.”

“No, you are not. You are a King. My King,” she said, pulling on his collar to bring him down for a kiss. She savored the moment and the taste of his lips. _We are alone in this fight._

“You are worried,” he said. It was not a question.

“Aye. You are not?” she replied.

“I am, but not for tonight. This will not be the true battle. We should repel them. But come tomorrow, I cannot say. If we must, we will use the dragons,” he said. Visenya was not so sure. If the wildlings held the numbers Jon and the Night’s Watch said they did, she figured a former ranger could take Castle Black in one night.

“I had hoped we would have an army here. We could have sought peace with them. I know they are not like us and the North hates them, but they do not deserve to die like animals beyond the Wall. And if what Sam says about the dead is true, then we should pray they do not fall to the White Walkers,” she said, staring back into the flames.

“If you clutch that sword any tighter, your hands will start to callous,” he whispered against her hair. She responded with a punch to his stomach, earning a laugh from him. Knowing no one was around, she rolled over into his lap to attack his lips, running her hands through his scruffy beard into his raven curls she loved so much. _I can never thank him enough for giving me Dark Sister._

When he returned to Castle Black with the Valyrian sword, she made sure to reward him that night. She made love to him more times than she could count that night and worshipped his body that she loved so much. But he was her Jon, and the night quickly turned into him pleasing her. _I am the luckiest woman in the world._

It was unwise, but she began to rock her hips against his hard length that fought to get out of his breeches to where it belonged. _Inside me._ Visenya was biting his lower lip when she felt his hands on her ass. She was now wet for him and was willing to risk having him here and now. But it never came to that as she heard the horn sound off nearby.

Pulling away to look into Jon’s eyes, she stared into his Stark eyes, waiting for the second blast. When it came, she sprung to her feet, throwing her cloak aside. Jon brushed past her, making his way over to the men standing at their posts atop the Wall. She made sure Dark Sister was still on her belt and proceeded to grab her old sword, swinging it across her back. Next, she placed her quiver across her back, just above her sword so she could still have easy access to her arrows.

All that was left was her bow lying against the ice. She took it and turned to look over the Wall to find a large section of the Haunted Forest burning down. It was the largest fire she had ever seen. _Why are they burning the forest? A signal. The battle will begin soon._

Running down the walkway, she passed several brothers running with their bows and baskets of arrows to their designated positions. Visenya saw Jon pointing at the ground below next to Ser Alliser. They must have been directly over the gate considering she had just run past the lift that transported men up and down the Wall.

Stepping to the edge facing north, she saw thousands of men and women pouring out of the woods, just beyond the tree line into the field below. They were screaming with swords, axes, warhammers, and torches in hand. She figured they were poorly constructed weapons, but they did not need castle forged steel to defeat the Night’s Watch. Their numbers alone would do that over time.

“Archers knock! Everyone else hold!” Ser Alliser commanded. Visenya turned her head as some panicked man dropped a barrel from his position some fifty feet away. _He is in the safest place for the battle. What is he panicked for?_ “I said fucking nock. Does nock mean fucking draw? Does fucking hold mean fucking drop? Do you all plan to die here tonight?”

The brothers screamed no every time Ser Alliser scolded them for the mistake. “That’s very good to hear. Draw!” Ser Alliser continued. Then she heard a man yell “down below” as two horn blasts sounded below, inside Castle Black. She rushed over to the other end of the Wall to look at the attackers below.

“There are over one hundred of them!” she yelled to Jon, seeing the wildlings running toward the gate at Castle Black. She saw several taken down by flaming arrows.

She ran back over to Jon, wondering how they were going to handle this attack. There were more of them attacking from the south than was expected. If it were up to her, she would take the lift down the Wall and handle the immediate threat. A small force could defend from the top, but Jon was more experienced in war and was raised to lead men into battle. She would defer to his tactical abilities.

“Brother Slynt, you have command of the Wall,” Thorne told the former commander of the gold cloaks. Visenya despised the man. He had conspired against her family. _Why did Thorne show favor to this man? Politics within the Watch I do not know of? Or is Slynt just a loyal dog that does as he is told here? If he so much as raises his sword in my direction, I am removing his head._ “What are you fucking waiting for? Loose!”

Then men sent their arrows hundreds of feet below, striking some of their intended targets. _If you can call them that from this high up._ It was amazing to see the wildlings not even flinch as the arrows cut down men next to them. They were not afraid and Visenya realized they truly believed they would breach the wall.

What she saw next truly shook her. Emerging from the forest was several giants. _They really do exist!_ Some of them even rode atop the mammoths of legend. It was one thing to read about them in a book and another to see them with her own eyes. _The gate will not hold. We may have to call for Vermithrex and Silverclaw after all._

“Why did you not take command?” she asked Jon, pulling him aside.

“The Night’s Watch are not ours to command,” he protested.

She turned to look out at the wildlings approaching and took arrows from a bucket next to her feet. Lighting each arrow in the brazier next to her, she loosed them upon the men charging toward the gate. Not bothering to see if her arrows met their mark, she focused on sending as many as she could in the attackers’ general vicinity. _This distance does not call for marksmanship._

It was when the giants began to march on the gate that she turned to Jon with a worried look. She turned to Janos Slynt, waiting for the man to order his men to focus on defending the gate. From her view, he was mumbling something. _Is he crying? He is scared. I am going to kill him._

Just as she marched over to the traitor with her hand on Dark Sister’s grip, Grenn spoke up, “Brother Slynt, Ser Alliser says he needs you down below.”

“Yes, I am needed below,” Slynt stuttered before turning on his heals toward the lift. _Coward._ She tried to follow him, but she felt Jon’s familiar hand pull her arm back to him.

She felt pride when she saw Grenn, Edd, and the rest of the men standing, waiting for Jon to lead them. He looked into her eyes, letting her know he would take charge now that he had no choice. A moment later, he turned around to face the army below. “Nock! Draw! Loose!” Jon yelled.

Doing as he commanded, Visenya began loosing arrows upon the tiny targets below. “Jon! They are getting closer to the gate! They have a battering ram!” she yelled over to him while continuing to light her arrows.

“Drop the barrels!” she heard him order. Seconds later, she saw two wooden barrels falling fast toward the ground below. The impact sent the metals within flying out into the men ramming the gate. They did not stand a chance.

“Climbers!” she heard Edd Tollett yell from twenty feet to her right.

“Archers, aim for the climbers! Do not waste arrows on anyone else below! Climbers and men at the gate!” he ordered, earning cheers from the men.

“Jon, the giants are approaching the gate!” she yelled over after seeing them march with a mammoth toward the gate below.

“Grenn, take five men below and defend the gate,” she saw her husband order his new friend. Just as he was about to leave, she saw Jon stop Grenn, “Do not let them through.”

“Aye,” Grenn replied before turning around, yelling at several men to join him.

Visenya turned her focus back on the events below and took her time sending her arrows at the men below. The battle here was not as chaotic this high up and nothing like the stories she had heard from men who had fought in ones.

Soon enough, the giants reached the gate and from what she could tell, were hooking ropes to the gate. They intended to pull it down with shear strength and the power of their mammoth. She saw Jon recognize the threat and heard him order the men to drop the barrels filled with metal and oil. The men lit the wicks at the end of the barrels and pushed them off the side as quick as possible for fear of an explosion atop the Wall.

They had their intended effect. Visenya could see the mammoth break free, running away like a frightened horse scared of fire. One of the giants went running after it, only to be cut down by a spear launched from a scorpion a hundred feet away from her. _Quite the shot._ She shook her head knowing they would not be so lucky for the rest of the night.

“What are you doing up here?” Jon asked Sam who came up behind them as they examined the damage below. It looked like the remaining giant was attempting to lift the gate and enter by himself.

“The wildlings are over the walls. Ser Alliser is wounded. The castle won’t hold much longer,” Sam answered, nearly out of breath. She could see the crossbow in his hand. _I hope he took a few before coming up here._

“Edd, you have the wall. If the mammoths get too close to the gate again, drop fire on them. If the climbers get too high, drop the scythe. Brothers of the Night’s Watch, with me!” Jon instructed Edd Tollett before waving for a half dozen men to follow him below. _Why is he not leaving me in charge?_

“Are you coming?” he asked, waiting for her to follow. She could not believe he was willing to bring her with him into the fray of battle. Visenya finally shook herself free from the shock and moved her feet to follow him into the cage to descend upon the wildlings within Castle Black. “When we hit the ground, stick near the lift. Use that bow of yours. You should end more lives than I tonight if your aim is still true.”

“Do not worry about my aim. Worry about yourself so you can return to me,” she answered. The descent was slow and nerve racking. This was the most nervous she had felt the entire night. She started to run her hand through her simple northern braid, trying to calm down and not let herself be killed.

As they got closer and were now close to one hundred feet from the ground, Visenya began to aim and loose arrows toward unsuspecting wildlings. Each arrow hit its mark as she saw the men drop lifelessly to the ground. “Sam, when we get down there, go protect my Uncle and Gilly,” Jon ordered Sam next to them.

Nearly six feet from the ground, Jon flung the cage open and leapt to platform with Longclaw ready to kill any man who crossed him. Visenya knew this moment would determine whether they lived to fight another day or they would need to call for their dragons to burn down the wildlings. She started to sling more arrows and promised to kill as many of them as possible.

She focused her aim along the walls of Castle Black to take out any potential archers. In short order, she struck three archers in the neck in succession near the walls around the gate. Seeing that the top of the structure was beginning to empty, she shifted her focus to the men fighting in the training yard.

It was difficult to avoid the brothers in black, but she took her time and made sure to hit the wildlings when they were not so close to a man on her side. She found Jon cutting his way through the men and he cut down several men with ease. He looked like he was born with a sword in his hand. It was like an artist who only painted in red. _Ser Arthur trained him well._

One of the wildlings approached him from behind with an axe in hand. Visenya removed an arrow from her quiver and sent the arrow through his neck without even hesitating for a moment. After taking that man down, she saw Jon begin to fight a man nearly a head taller than him wielding a large axe skillfully. The man looked as strange as the others just like him with bald heads and scars on their faces.

This opponent was not as easy as the others and Visenya decided she was no longer of use where she stood. She dropped her bow and threw down her quiver. Rushing down the wooden stairs, she unsheathed Dark Sister and ran towards the fighting. It must have been an odd image for the first wildling who saw her froze for a moment before she opened his throat with her Valyrian blade.

Without having a moment to think, two men ran towards her, swinging their blades. She ducked below the strike from her left and cut through the torso of the man to her right. Dark Sister cut through him like a knife through butter and she spun, driving the blade through the man to her left’s thigh. Pulling the blade out, she drove it through his heart to end him quickly.

Knowing she had to find Jon and help him, she pushed on, looking frantically for him in the midst of battle. Visenya realized she could not just stand there looking around, she ran over to the closest wildling she saw and drove Dark Sister through his back before he could kill a member of the Night’s Watch. From there, she moved on to kill four more men hacking away at the brothers of Castle Black.

She could feel the warm blood of her opponents sprayed across her face and wiped some of it away. It was then she finally saw Jon without Longclaw in his hands as the tall wildling moved in to kill him. Fear and panic filled her as she saw he already had cuts across both of his eyes. Jon had already been wounded and she ran as fast as she could to stop his death. _I cannot lose him._

To her dismay, two wildlings stepped into her path. Without even thinking through her attack, Visenya moved quicker than either opponent, opening the guts of one and decapitating the other. Jon still needed her help and she moved forward, relieved to see he had buried a blacksmith’s hammer in the wildling’s skull.

Her gaze shifted to movement from the corner of her vision. There she saw a wildling woman with red hair approaching Jon below the walkway with a nocked bow in hand. _You will not take him._ Visenya sprinted as fast as she could toward the woman, with Jon’s life in the balance once again.

Visenya ran past one of the columns supporting the old wooden structure behind the wildling and ran after her several paces below the walkway. The girl drew her bow and aimed for Jon, but Visenya was too fast for her and pushed Dark Sister through her grey wildling furs on her back and out her chest. Visenya may have felt guilty about stabbing an opponent in the back, but this was battle and honor did not matter when someone she loved was in danger.

The wildling fell to the ground and she saw Jon’s relieved face. _He thought he was going to die._ Visenya looked down at the woman she had stabbed and saw she had a pretty face. _She may have been a pretty lady wrapped in silk dresses if she was born on the right side of the Wall._

Shaking the thought from her mind, she ran over to Jon, locking her arms around his center. Not wanting to let him go, she eventually built up the resilience to ease her grasp on him and looked up into his eyes. “Where is Longclaw?” she scolded him.

“Over there on the ground somewhere. He was stronger than me,” he let out between heavy breaths.

“Yes, I saw. And what happened to your eyes?” she questioned. She lifted her fingers to trace the cuts, that were near scratches.

“Oh, this? I killed one of the wildlings and then his eyes turned white. I froze, not knowing what was happening and then some bird attacked me. That bird was the toughest foe I have ever faced,” he jested with half a smile.

“That isn’t funny. He must have been a warg,” Visenya concluded thinking back to some of the books she read with Maester Luwin. No one else cared to read them except for herself. _I wish he was here to hear about this. He always told me magic had left the world long ago._

“Anyways, there is still a battle going on,” Jon said before backing away and rushing over to the training yard to pickup Longclaw from the mud. His blade was covered in blood and muck. She looked down at her own to see blood covering most of the blade. It was nearly black, glowing under the full moon with tiny flakes of snow falling upon the blade, almost instantly melting upon contact with the warm blood of the men and woman she had slain this night.

As they closed in on the remaining brothers still fighting, they found the battle on the ground was over and all that remained was a single wildling. The man looked fearsome and strong, with red hair and a strong beard. He was encircled and tried to fight off every man he could. She saw Jon step forward with the man turned away and kicked his legs out from under him. _He means to take him prisoner._

“Give it up. You are defeated,” Jon said. Turning to the men awaiting his orders, he continued, “Put him in chains. We will interrogate him later.” Just as he finished, they heard a horn blast from the south. Visenya panicked, thinking a second wildling force approached in greater strength. _We cannot repel another attack this night. Silverclaw, Vyraxes, Darkskye, I need you now._

“Riders approaching!” a man posted above the gate screamed. She thought it odd that the wildlings were approaching with a cavalry force. _It will do no good against a castle. Even one such as Castle Black._ Then the man began to yell again, “Direwolf banners!” _Robb has come!_

“Open the gate!” Jon yelled to the Night’s Watch. Visenya waited in anticipation to see their cousin who they had not seen since leaving Winterfell almost four years ago. Several men ran over to gate and pulled it open for the Northern army to enter.

The first thing through the gate was Grey Wind striding into the castle, bearing his teeth to everyone except herself and Jon as he stood on his hind legs at her feet with his tongue hanging out. She ruffled his fur behind his ears to reward him until she saw Robb come in atop a strong black destrier.

Her cousin still looked the same, but carried himself differently in some way. _He is the Lord of Winterfell now and a father._ Visenya ran over to greet him and wrapped him up in a hug before he could kneel before her. “I’ve missed you cousin,” she said in a hushed tone beside his ear.

“I’ve missed you too, your Grace,” he answered after she finally let him go. “My King,” he said, kneeling before Jon as he stood beside her with his hand at the small of her back.

“Rise,” her husband said before embracing Robb, who was the closest thing to a brother he had left after losing Aegon. “I am glad you have come Robb.”

“I am sorry I did not come sooner. I was busy chasing the Ironborn out of our lands. But they are all gone now, but there was no sign of Theon. The coward must have fled to Pyke,” Robb said in anger. She could not blame him. She wanted to kill him herself.

“Did you find Rickon?” she asked, hoping he reached Last Hearth.

“Aye. Lord Umber sent him to Winterfell after we retook it. The Bolton bastard is dead, along with Harrion Karstark. I also bear more bad news. Ser Rodrik and Maester Luwin are dead. Theon killed Rodrik and one of his men stabbed Maester Luwin,” Robb informed them. Visenya fought back the tears, knowing she had to present herself as a Queen with all of the eyes watching them.

She still remembered all the times she spent with Maester Luwin, reading in the Winterfell library. He taught her everything about the history of House Stark and that of the northern houses. And Ser Rodrik was a good man, who did not deserve to fall by a traitor’s blade. _Curse Theon and the Greyjoys! Before this is over and we take back what is ours, I will see the Iron Islands burn._

“Robb, Bran went beyond the Wall, through the Nightfort. My friend Samwell Tarly said he passed through earlier this year with Jojen and Meera Reed, Hodor, and Summer,” Jon told Robb who appeared relieved to find out Bran was alive, but worried for his safety north of the Wall.

“Why?” was all he could ask.

“I do not know. Sam said something about a three-eyed raven,” Jon replied, shaking his head. Visenya knew he wished he could do more for their little cousin.

“I guess he must have had his reasons. It looks like I have missed the battle,” Robb shifted the conversation, observing the dead bodies strewn across the muddy ground.

“Hardly. There are still over a hundred thousand of them waiting just beyond the Wall,” she motioned with her head over her shoulder. She was going to describe the battle to him and show him Dark Sister, but was interrupted by the cries of their dragons. Silverclaw and Vermithrex were the first to fly low, overhead for all of the North to see.

“I cannot believe it. The rumors are true. How in the seven hells did you bring dragons back into the world?” Robb asked with an exasperated look.

“A story for another time cousin,” Jon said, slapping his shoulder. “How many men did you bring?”

“Twenty-five thousand. It was the most I could muster. I gathered all the mountain clans as well. I left fifteen thousand south, to guard against any Lannister, Frey, or Greyjoy force that is bold enough to fight on our lands,” Robb answered.

“Good, have your best archers sent up the Wall. The wildlings have fast climbers who can make their way up the ice quicker than one would think. They are likely climbing several miles down at undefended portions of the Wall. Set up a defensive camp around Castle Black and have outriders scout for any potential forces approaching. And if you have decent spearmen with heavy shields, have them guard the outer edges of the Night’s Watch posts up top. They may just walk across the Wall and attack our flank,” Jon ordered Robb.

“Do you think they will attack again tonight?” Robb asked.

“No, but on the morrow, I cannot say,” Jon answered looking back at the tunnel. “At midday, I will seek out Mance Rayder and sue for peace. I do not want to waste any more men from the Watch or North. We have greater problems to face than the wildlings. And those problems will multiply if they remain beyond the Wall and not part of the realm,” Jon said.

“I don’t understand, you mean to let them through?” Robb asked in confusion.

“Aye. If you have heard what I have of what lies beyond the Wall, you would want them to cross as well,” Jon said.

“I received the raven from Maester Aemon. If you believe this Army of the Dead and White Walkers are true, then I believe you, but why must we save the wildlings?” Robb questioned.

“Because if they die, they will add to their numbers. I know we are asking a lot from you as our Warden of the North, but we must insist you allow the wildlings to settle in the Gift. They will fall under your protection and rule. We will not let them cross without accepting our laws and a promise of peace with the Northern Houses,” Visenya spoke, trying to assuage his rightful concerns.

“If that is what my King and Queen command, I will follow, but you should send someone else to negotiate,” Robb said. _He is not wrong._

“No. Despite what he may be, Mance Rayder is still a king and only the word of a king will convince him of such a deal,” Jon declared. “And if he refuses or kills me, then Visenya will burn them all with our dragons.” _It better not come to that._

 

 

**Jon Targaryen**

His hand moved across Grenn’s eyes to shut them forever. He had sent him and the other brothers to their death. _They died defending the Realm. The histories will never know their names or what they sacrificed to protect those in the South._ Jon wondered how they managed to bring down the giant. _If such a thing could lift the steel gate, how could any man bring him down?_

He stood back up and looked to Sam and Visenya. She just shook her head. Jon tried to convince her of his thinking but failed the previous night. She did not approve of his plan to walk into the wildling camp and seek out Mance Rayder. _She called me a northern fool just like Dany always has._

“They killed Pyp as well,” Sam let out, looking at Grenn and the others.

“I am sorry Sam,” Visenya said, rubbing Sam’s arm in comfort.

“Here, take this,” he said, handing Longclaw over to Visenya after unbuckling his sword belt. Her eyes went wide when he placed the sheathed sword in her hands.

“What? I don’t… You plan to go in there unarmed?” she asked.

“Aye. They will take any weapons I carry before I can speak with Mance. If they do kill me, I do not plan on letting them get Longclaw,” he told her, hoping she would understand. “Sam,” he continued, nodding his head to his best friend to signal for the gate to open.

As Sam waved his torch, Visenya pulled on his head so she could capture his lips. She sucked hard on his mouth, not wanting to let him go. _I do not want to let her go either._ It was not until the gate was fully open and the heavy wind rolled through that she finally released him. “Return to me. Promise it,” she urged him, squeezing his arms.

“I swear it,” he promised. He meant the words, but he knew words were wind. He could not control what would happen to him once he stepped foot into the forest ahead.

Not wanting to linger any longer for fear of changing his mind and staying at his Queen’s side, for her warmth and love, he stepped away and marched into daylight beyond the gate. Dozens of bodies were scattered across the ground he walked. There was even a dead giant who was shot by a scorpion during the night before he went below to fight within the walls of Castle Black.

He did not see any wildlings in the field or at the edge of the forest as he walked through the light layer of snow covering the ground. _Please do not let me be shot by an arrow before I even get a chance to speak._ Along the tree line, there were several corpses that had been hit by archers atop the Wall.

It was not until he stepped foot into the woods and walked two hundred feet in that he began to see Wildlings everywhere. The further he marched, the more tents and people he found. To his left, he saw what must have been twenty giants staring back at him. _If it wasn’t for Brandon the Builder, these giants could conquer an entire army themselves._

Each person held hateful faces that looked ready to tear him limb from limb. _They think I am a brother of the Night’s Watch._ He fit the description with his black clothing and black furred-cloak. It was not until he reached what must have been the center of the camp when he found the largest tents and concluded this must be where Mance Rayder was.

“I have been sent to negotiate terms,” he told a bald man with a scarred face that approached with a large battleaxe. He looked just like the man Jon had killed the previous night with a hammer. He could tell the wildling fought the urge to bury the steel into his skull. Instead, he was led to the tent guarded by three wildlings holding spears.

Jon pushed aside the tent flap and found nearly ten men inside, all staring at him. He took his time to observe every face and finally found that of Mance Rayder. It was a gut feeling, but the right one. He knew by the look on his face and the way he presented himself that this man was not born beyond the Wall. He was a man of the Night’s Watch and of the realm before history took its course.

“What is your name boy?” Mance asked.

“Jon Snow,” he lied. He wanted to get a feel for the King Beyond the Wall before revealing his true identity. If he seemed honorable, he would tell it true and negotiate King to King.

“Well Jon Snow, you fought well. Killed some of my best men. One of our giants went into your tunnel in the night, never came out,” Mance said.

“He is dead. My friend Grenn and several others died stopping him,” he answered.

“Mag the Mighty. He was their King and the last of a bloodline that reaches back before the First Men,” Mance added.

“Grenn came from a farm,” he replied, not knowing much else about him.

“Mag and Grenn,” Mance said, lifting a cup to toast to their memory.

He lifted the cup in front of him and added, “Grenn and Mag.” He nearly spit out the drink. It was a hard drink that was stronger than almost anything his lips had tasted south of the Wall.

“That’s a proper northern drink Jon Snow. Now, you were sent here to bargain. Let’s bargain,” Mance said.

“The King of Westeros sent me here to give you terms,” Jon said, earning a laugh from Mance and all the men in the tent.

“I know you’re low on arrows, oil, and men. I showed you everything we had, a hundred thousand men, and what did you do? You fired on us. It wasn’t much and when I saw that, I sent four hundred men to climb an unmanned stretch five miles west of here. Many of them will die, but enough will cross before the day is done. This is me being honest with you Jon Snow, which is more than I can say you have been with me. What do you have left, fifty men? Not even that? I am not here to conquer. We are here to hide behind your Wall,” Mance said. _He knows my name is false and that I am not a member of the Night’s Watch._

“Aye. I haven’t been honest with you. My name is Jon, but I am not a Snow. I am Jon of the House Targaryen, son of King Rhaegar Targaryen, first of his name. I am the King of Westeros, or at least parts of it for now. This is me being honest with you. Behind the Wall, I have twenty-five thousand northmen and six dragons awaiting your army,” he told the former brother of the Nights Watch. The mention of dragons earned a disbelieving smile from Mance. _Why should he believe me?_

Jon continued, “We both know winter is coming and if your people stay beyond the Wall, they will all die. I did not come here to kill your people or see them freeze come winter. Bend the knee and swear yourselves to House Targaryen. I will name you all citizens of the Realm and you will fall under my protection. Your people will be settled along the Gift and answer to my cousin, Lord Robb Stark of Winterfell. You and several others will be named Lords and given keeps. All I ask is you follow our laws and fight with us when the dead come.”

Jon noticed Mance raise an eyebrow at his mention of the dead. He felt like he was convincing enough and the King Beyond the Wall was considering the terms laid before him. But his chance at a peace was swept away by the yelling outside the tent. “Riders from the south!” he heard a wildling scream as they sounded their horns for an impending attack. _What in the seven hells is going on? Robb and Visenya would not act so recklessly._

Mance jumped up from his seat, holding a sword against his throat. “You attacking us, King Jon?” Mance asked him with a piercing gaze.

“No, I commanded my men to stay south while I brought you terms,” he answered honestly.

The men in the tent ran out with their swords drawn, ready for a fight. Jon walked behind Mance, nervous about what was coming for them. He did not even have a dagger to defend himself with. Men were running across the camp, scrambling to defend themselves against this unknown foe.

Moments later, he heard the horns coming from the attacking cavalry. Answering their horns came a different horn blast from the north. Jon knew then, this was an organized attack orchestrated by a Westerosi lord, but whom?

Soon enough, he saw riders cutting down men left and right. Instantly, he recognized the armor from the force attacking from the south. _This is Stannis. The flaming stag sigil is hard to miss._ Jon just watched, because it was all he could do at that moment. Lives were being wasted before his eyes. _I was just about to secure a peace._

The riders from the north began to weave through the trees and tents around him in their black armor, carrying banners with his House’s sigil. _Grandmother._ He felt he should have known better. His grandmother was not the sort to let Castle Black fend for itself and allow their Uncle Aemon to be killed.

“Stop this! I mean it! My people have bled enough!” Mance ordered his men. Jon was impressed to see all of those that could hear laid down their arms and ceased fighting. All his life, he heard about the wildlings being a disorganized rabble that were too busy fighting each other. Mance Rayder, a former brother of the Night’s Watch, had managed to unite them all to follow his lead.

The fighting began to dissipate around the camp and he finally saw Stannis Baratheon riding forth with Ser Davos Seaworth at his side. Jon did not agree with Stannis keeping the red priestess Melisandre as counsel, but he could not fault the man for having Davos as his right hand. There were many men to consider for the position as Hand of the King when he returned to Westeros, and Davos was always a name that came to mind. _Many lords look down on the Onion Knight, but I know better. He always gives the hard truth and has a skeptical, realistic mind._

Stannis and Davos dismounted their horses and began to walk his way. One of the wildlings raised an axe and charged their way. Davos drew his sword with his one good hand, but it was not needed for a rider from the Stormlands rode down the man, piercing him with a spear. As soon as Davos and Stannis saw him standing there next to Mance, they knelt before him.

“My King,” Stannis said.

“Rise my Lord,” he ordered the Lord of Storm’s End. It was then he heard the cries of Vermithrex and Silverclaw and the rest in the sky above. _Visenya must have been warned of the attacked and is seeing if they are foes._

“What are you doing in a wildling camp your Grace?” Ser Davos asked after looking up at the dragons who were hard to see through the trees.

“Giving their King terms. I do not want them slaughtered. Those that bend the knee and fight with us when winter comes will be allowed through the tunnel to become citizens of the Realm,” he informed Davos.

“Queen Rhaella sent us. I thought you would have come here with your armies from Essos,” Stannis added.

“I do not yet have the ships to bring all my men here. I am sorry I was not here for the war my Lord, but I have people and lands to rule in Essos before I return,” he informed Stannis who was disappointed with the answer. He turned to Mance, continuing, “So what will it be? Bend the knee and pass through the tunnel or stay north and freeze to death if you are lucky?”

“I have your word my people will not be slaughtered once they go through your tunnel?” Mance asked.

“Aye. You have my word and that of my cousin, Lord Robb Stark. Your people will be people of the North. My guess is it will not be easy, but what choice do you have?” he responded.

“Aye. We will call you King, but do not expect the free folk to actually bend the knee. They will not do it no matter what I say King Jon. When the time comes and the dead arrive, we will fight. You have my word,” Mance vowed, reaching out to shake his hand. His grip was firm and Jon shook his hand with the understanding he was dealing with an honest man that made for a good king. “Another thing, I cannot promise you they will all follow me. Your men here have killed quite a number of the free folk, there will be some who will not let that go.”

“Then I pity them. Winter is coming and they should not stay here. If they change their minds, they will find open gates if they pledge themselves to House Targaryen and answer to House Stark,” he replied. _Who wants to stay here? If the White Walkers are as Sam said they are, why would anyone stay here?_

 

It had been two days since they let the free folk through the Wall and Jon was ready to return to Meereen. He missed his children, Daenerys, and Rhaenys. _Will they think me mad, letting the free folk through?_

Not all of them followed Mance. According to him and Tormund Giantsbane, there were still some thirty thousand who did not enter the tunnel. Tormund said they did not trust the crows and thought they were walking into a trap. Jon could not necessarily blame them considering the attack on their camp while he negotiated with Mance. Most of every clan followed Mance. The hornfoots, cave people, ice-river clans, giants, nightrunners, men of the frozen shore, and all the rest came south. All except the Thenns. _Tormund said everyone hates the Thenns._

Jon was walking toward Vermithrex, waiting for him next to Silverclaw in the field just outside the walls of Castle Black. He glanced back at the castle, hoping his uncle and Sam would still be alive by the time he returned to Westeros to fight the wars to come. Visenya clung to his side, eager to return to their children. He noticed Dark Sister still attached to her waist. _She is going to carry that thing around everywhere._

Stopping short of the dragons, he turned around to face Robb, Stannis, and Davos. He could tell they were not pleased to see him leave, but he could not stay here forever. He trusted them and knew they could rule their lands while he remained in the Bay of Dragons.

“If you have any trouble with the free folk, go to Mance or Tormund. I trust them. I am sorry to leave you with all of this Robb,” he apologized to his cousin.

“Do not worry about me. If the Lannisters think about coming north, I now have giants to crush them,” Robb jested before turning to Visenya who hugged him before whispering a goodbye.

“Lord Stannis, I thank you for sailing this far north to aid my uncle and the Watch. I must ask it of you to cease hostilities with King’s Landing and the Westerlands. Protect your lands from the Lannisters and Martells. If you need aid by sea, send a raven to Dragonstone. House Targaryen and House Velaryon will protect your shores. You have my word,” he promised the unflinching Lord of Storm’s End.

“My King, when shall you return? I will not wait forever as long as that boy calls himself Baratheon and sits on your family’s throne,” Stannis responded with a tone as cold as the ice that made up the Wall behind him.

“One year, two at the latest. I should have the ships by then and have the Bay of Dragons secure enough to leave it in trusted hands,” he told Stannis. He turned to Davos, “Ser Davos, after you have ferried the stormlords back to Shipbreaker Bay, I would ask you to sail for Essos and serve me and my Queens.”

“You do me a great honor my King, but perhaps its wiser if Stannis were to serve you in…,” Davos responded, but Jon wanted none of it.

“Stannis is needed at Storm’s End and the Stormlands to fight Tywin Lannister if it comes to that. I need you in Meereen, to serve as my advisor and perhaps one day as my Hand,” he told Ser Davos. He almost laughed when he saw Davos’ face change.

Davos looked to Stannis who still held an unmoving face. “Don’t look to me. He is your King,” Stannis said.

“Aye. Thank you, your Grace. It would be my honor. If the winds are kind, I shall see you in several moons. Should I sail for Meereen or will you be elsewhere?” Davos asked.

“Aye. We should be in Meereen, but things can change. Sailors are a talkative lot. Keep your ears open and be ready to sail somewhere else should you hear we have gone to another city in the Bay of Dragons,” he told Davos.

Before walking over to their dragons, Jon pulled Robb in for a hug. “I promise, we will get Sansa and Arya back. They are alive. I know it. Tell Margaery we pray for her health and that of Ned’s,” he told his cousin before backing away to join Visenya who had already said her farewells.

His most difficult farewell took place earlier in the morning with their uncle. He knew Aemon was old and may not live much longer. _I pray he lives to hold one of my children._ But Jon knew the world could be cruel and resigned himself to the idea that this was the last time he would see his uncle who was the wisest of all the Targaryens.

Jon looked to Visenya as she climbed up the silver scales of Silverclaw while he did the same on Vermithrex. Securing his place up his dragon’s back, Jon looked above to see the other four dragons already flying south. He pulled on Vermithrex’s spikes and found the dragon beating its wings, sending them into the air. _They are tired of this cold._

Not bothering to look back, Jon focused on his wife ahead. Her hair danced in the wind as she flew like she was born to it. When they first arrived at Castle Black, she wanted to see Aemon so badly. Now, with even more fervor, she was racing to get back to their children who needed her.

 

 

**Daenerys Targaryen**

Meereen called it the Great Games, but Daenerys did not see what was great about it. Thousands had filled into the Great Fighting Pit, ready to cheer on the killing of men for sport. It was unpleasant and regretful that they decided to relent to the former masters. There was peace in the city again, but at a cost she did not feel good about paying.

Daenerys walked into the royal box beside Rhaenys, taking their seats at the center, reserved for the Queens of Meereen. The people were screaming for a fight, wanting to see blood spilled. She wondered how many here wanted her dead and how many loved their Queens.

To her right sat Hizdar zo Loraq while Ser Jorah and Daario Naharis stood behind her and Rhaenys. Allyria and Missandei sat on the other side of Rhaenys, pointing at the men entering the fighting pit. Following the two fighters was a man who looked to be a former master, announcing the participants.

Both fighters went on to proclaim they fought for the glory of herself and Rhaenys. Daenerys did her best not to roll her eyes and walk away from this farce. _I’d rather be freezing at Castle Black than here, watching this._ After the fighters were done yelling in Valyrian, the crowd went silent as a crypt.

“They are waiting for you my Queens. Clap your hands,” Hizdar leaned over to tell them.

She looked to Rhaenys, “You do the honors.” Rhaenys shook her head, but did so, clapping her hands softly together. The Meereenese were sent into a frenzy, cheering for the fighting to begin.

“That one, you should place your money on him,” Daario leaned in over her shoulder pointing at the small man. _He is too comfortable. If he was not so good at killing, I would have fed him to Snow or Drogon already._ Daenerys could not deny, in another life Daario’s charms might have worked on her. _But that is not me. Daario should find another woman to woo._

“I have spent many years in the fighting pits and more times than not, the larger man wins,” Hizdar disagreed with the sellsword.

“A novice mistake. When I fought in the fighting pits, everyone underestimated me. All they saw were skin and bones. They couldn’t get their coin out fast enough. But I was quicker and a smaller target for stronger, slower men. I would strike them hear, hear, and hear, striking them where they were weakest” Daario responded, angling his dagger around Hizdar’s throat, trying to intimidate him.

“Has your experience involved any actual fighting? Have you ever fought a man who was trying to kill you?” Daenerys questioned, knowing what the truth was. _It is easy for those who have not faced another man’s blade to speak so freely about the killing of others._

Daenerys turned her head at the sound of the roaring crowd and saw the larger man remove the small one’s head. Hizdar did not hide his smile and Daario retreated, not wanting to face that he was wrong. She saw Rhaenys just shake her head at the spectacle while twisting a ring on her finger that Jon had gifted her before flying off to the Wall.

“He will return to us,” she said to Rhaenys, who smiled at the thought.

“He better. I am ready to leave this city. I am tired of this,” Rhaenys gestured to the dead body being dragged from the pit. “I am not sure I can handle listening to the great families of Meereen any longer. We have given them too much and asked too little in return.” _She is not wrong. Every decision we have made here has had its own pitfalls._

“The people still need us. If we leave too soon, they will fall back into chains,” she added, thinking of all the people who welcomed them into the city as liberators.

“I know, but when will that day come? Will we ever return home?” Rhaenys asked as she heard a new group of fighters reciting the same old line before every fight that took place in their presence. “It is your turn. You do the honors.”

Daenerys looked down at the fighters waiting for her approval and she clapped her hands to commence the start of fighting. This fight was more chaotic than the last. There were more fighters and more blood pooling in the dirt beneath them. Each fighter looked to be from a different part of the world. They all had unique armor, weapons, and attacking styles. _The crowd loves these men? They should see what Ser Arthur can do with a sword in his hand, let alone two._

The fight went on until two fighters were finally left. Their duel was short-lived due to the man who wore more armor closed the distance and took a blow in order to open his opponents throat. The victor stepped forward to take his bow, but as he did, the sound behind Daenerys caused her to turnaround in her seat.

The sound of Dawn being unsheathed by Arthur Dayne was unmistakable and she was not quick enough to see him decapitate their assassin’s head. Blood poured from his neck like an open dam onto the stone floor of their royal box. Her gaze lifted to the crowd as she heard screams of panic and littering the faces in the crowd were the masks of the Sons of the Harpy. _Curse the masters. We will burn them all. We will show mercy no longer._

Daario, Arthur, and Oswell had their blades ready, stepping in front of them to block anything thrown their way. Daenerys watched as the Sons of the Harpy began to butcher anyone they could get their hands on in the crowd. People were climbing over each other, some even fighting one another to get out of the stands. She saw numerous members of the city watch killed for they were outnumbered. Their Unsullied fared much better along the lower ring, killing every man they encountered. But they were falling back due to the overwhelming number of masked attackers.

“My Queens, this way. I know a way out,” Hizdar waved them on to the side of the box, only to be stabbed in the heart by a dagger-wielding Harpy. _Perhaps I was wrong to mistrust him. Or his allies simply see him as disposable._

“My Queens, stay close behind me,” Ser Jorah leapt down from the royal box and assisted them in escaping the vulnerable position. He and Ser Oswell led them to the center of the fighting pit as Arthur and Daario covered their retreat. There were hundreds, if not over a thousand Harpies here to kill them and Daenerys began to worry they would succeed.

Near one hundred of their Unsullied came down to the pit to form a circular defense around them and Daenerys turned to look at Rhaenys who held the same worried look on her face. All she could do was watch as her men cut down each attacker that approached. Arthur and Oswell stood close, ready to give their lives for them. A cold realization began to enter her mind as she realized they could not hold back the Harpies’ increasing numbers forever.

She found herself holding Rhaenys and Allyria’s hands, knowing they would die in Meereen, never to see their children again. _I will never get to see my son become King. To see Arya, Senya, and Naerys marry men they love. To watch my sons grow strong and learn to fight from their father. I will never see his face again, feel his hands roam my body, and love me the way only he knows how._

After her eyes were closed as she focused on all of those she loved, her eyes flashed open at the sound of Drogon’s roar. Daenerys looked up with pride as her dragon had felt her fear and worries. She could not explain it, but they shared a connection with their dragons that was strong enough to reach them even from far away.

It was not only Drogon who appeared. Myrax came flying in as well. Both dragons flew around them, bathing the Harpies surrounding them in the fighting pit with dragonfire. Their screams brought a smile to her face. _I only wish their screams could last longer._ Peering through the flames, she saw Rhaegal, Viserion, Moonlight, and Kios unleashing their dragonfire upon the Harpies that remained in the stands above.

Drogon and Myrax landed before them in the pit, awaiting their riders. Daenerys did not hesitate to walk over and climb her dragon. She knew Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell could make it back to the pyramid themselves now. She looked over to Rhaenys who was helping Allyria join her on Myrax. _So, they will let others ride with us?_

“Sovegon!” she commanded Drogon and was up above the fighting pit after a few, short flaps of his wings. She decided she needed to get back to the pyramid to make sure her children were safe. _If they are bold enough to attack us there, they may attack the pyramid._

Drogon flew faster than he ever had before with her hair flying in the air, ruining her braids. It was a short flight that ended with her dragon landing on the terrace just outside the solar of their apartment. Daenerys slid off her black-scaled dragon and rushed into the pyramid, frantic to reach her children and see them safe.

Inside the solar, she saw a servant lying dead, torn apart by a direwolf. _They must have been a spy for the masters._ She yelled for Ser Barristan and heard nothing. Rhaenys was right behind her, yelling for Elia and Lyanna. Daenerys lifted her skirt so she would not trip and ran to the nursery hoping the worst had not occurred.

Her vision blurred as she sprinted down the hallway leading to the nursery and adjacent rooms that held their children. In front of the door she intended to bust through, she found Snow standing guard with blood around her mouth. Her loyal direwolf stepped aside and she pushed open the wooden door to find Lyanna, Elia, and Ashara hovering over their children in the corner of the room with five Unsullied lifting their spears after realizing who they were pointing them at.

“Rhaegar! Arya!” she uttered, falling to her knees, wrapping her arms around her frightened children. Eddard and Senya were right behind them and she pulled the little ones close to her side, touching their faces to make sure they were unharmed.

Finally knowing they were healthy and unharmed, she stood and checked on her youngest who were being looked over by Lyanna. She rocked each in her arms for awhile before finally asking, “What happened here? How did they get into the pyramid? Where is Ser Barristan and Willas?”

“Some of the servants in the pyramid served the masters. One of them reached the solar, but Snow killed him,” Lyanna answered. Daenerys saw the aftermath of it when she arrived. “Ser Barristan, Willas, and Grey Worm led our men to root out the Harpies that were attacking the lower levels. The rest of the wolves went with them. We tried to stop them, but they would not listen to us. Only Snow stayed behind. Zokla wouldn’t even follow my command.”

“Your Graces,” she heard Ser Barristan coming in through the doorway. “We have secured the pyramid, but the city is in chaos. Grey Worm has ordered the Unsullied to stay around the pyramid for now. The Second Sons and Stormcrows were sent to protect the port and gates of the city.” _Jon, we need you back here. I know nothing of military strategy._

“Ser Barristan, what do you think we should…,” Rhaenys started before being cut off by the sound of the city’s bells. _What could this be?_ Daenerys left the room and ran to the terrace overlooking most of the city and the Bay of Dragons. The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and Rhaenys were walking with her. Once outside, she saw an approaching fleet of ships.

“The masters want a war. We will give it to them,” Rhaenys said next to her in fury. In that moment, she thought she might have seen flames dancing in Rhaenys’ dark, violet eyes.

“Ser Barristan, gather our forces and prepare them for battle. On the morrow, we march on the slavers and kill them all,” Daenerys ordered the old knight, who nodded.

“Your Graces,” he said before backing away to organize their army below.

“We will have to do this without Jon and Visenya,” Rhaenys stated, looking out at the ships gliding over the calm waters toward the shore.

“But we will not be alone. It is time the world is reminded what dragons can do on the battlefield,” she vowed. _I will give them a field of fire and then burn Volantis to its foundations. Only the Volantenes have the power to back this attack. Attacking my children! I will hold back no more._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At first, I considered having the dragons battle Mance, but decided against it since the wildlings bc the wildlings would never trust the Targaryens after that. Battle of Meereen is next and the great families of Meereen will face the consequences of their failure. Two more chapters only in Meereen. Chatper 29 will be in a new location the story has not seen. And finally, sorry Ygritte fans but it had to happen.


	27. The Battle of Meereen

**302 AC**

**Visenya Targaryen**

Despite Jon’s protests, he relented and they continued flying back to Meereen into the night. He wanted her to rest and return to their family in the morning. After giving their dragons a break to gather their strength in the Dothraki Sea, they pushed on and made for her children. _I do not need rest. I need to see my children, especially Rickard and Rhaenyra._

Visenya hated the time spent in the sky after leaving Castle Black. She was filled with her own thoughts and misery. All she could think of was leaving her babes behind to defend the Wall. It was then she began to doubt her decision. _Jon needed me. Uncle Aemon needed me there. I will make it up to my babes. They shall not leave my sight for a fortnight._

During their flight under the star-filled sky, she began to wonder where they were. It was far easier to identify the lands below under the sun and a blue sky. Everything was hard to make out under the cover of darkness. It was when they found the reflection of the moon upon the surface of the Bay of Dragons that she became sure of their location.

After following the coast for a short period of time, Visenya found herself jolted from her daze by the flicker of fire in the distance. It was too much to just be the typical lighting inside a city. _The city is under attack!_ Instantly, Visenya pulled on Silverclaw’s spikes and yelled in High Valyrian for her silver-scaled dragon to fly as fast as she could toward the ensuing battle.

What appeared to be a flicker of light from a great distance turned into a clear picture of Meereen put to siege by the noble families who had lost power under their rule. Countless ships filled the harbor, launching flaming projectiles into the buildings closest to the city’s walls. There were also fires within the city that could not have possibly come from the warships. _The Son’s of the Harpy._ Resisting the urge to burn them all at once and send their ships sinking to the bottom of the sea, she turned her attention Jon flying beside her on Vermithrex.

She pointed to their pyramid and he nodded his head in agreement that they should make sure their family was safe. _I need to see my children. I need to see Dany and Rhae. I need to make sure my children are all healthy and unhurt. Why hasn’t Daenerys or Rhaenys mounted their dragons and dealt with them?_

The landing on their terrace was not the most graceful, but Visenya did not have the patience and her dragon knew she did not. Sliding off her dragon’s shoulder, she rushed into their royal apartment to find spears pointing at them. With her hand already gripping Dark Sister, she drew her blade on instinct before realizing they faced their Unsullied who were on guard.

“Muna!” she heard from across the room as she saw her son Jon and little Dany rushing towards her the moment the Unsullied lifted their spears and knelt before them. Her two oldest crashed into her legs, holding onto her legs with such strength, she wondered if they would ever let go. It was the longest they had ever been away from her and it showed.

“My sweetlings, I’ve missed you so much,” she whispered into their ears after kneeling down on the stone floor to hug them. Visenya felt their tears running down their cheeks and pulled back to get a good look at them. “I promise you, I am not going anywhere.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Rhaenys and Daenerys embracing Jon with the rest of their children. All of their Kingsguard were present along with Ser Jorah, Grey Worm, Missandei, Daario Naharis, and Willas Tyrell. For a brief moment, she looked around for her mother, only to find her walking with Rickard in her arms. Elia carried Rhaenyra right behind her.

Finally letting go of her oldest, she walked over to take Rickard in her arms and sat down at the sofa in the middle of the solar. Elia sat next to her and slipped Rhaenyra into the crook of her open arm. She couldn’t take her eyes off her babes. _I promise I will always love you._ “Thank you,” she said to her mother and Elia without looking up from the violet eyes of her two babes.

“You do not need to thank us. We know what it feels like to want your child in your arms,” Elia replied.

Her mother came to sit on her other side as Ashara and Allyria came into the room, sitting in two open chairs to her left. Without realizing it, her mother had gathered Brandon and Sansa, who were stumbling her way and clung to her feet. She was thankful when her mother proceeded to pick each of them up and place them at her sides on the sofa. It was difficult to kiss each of their little brows with the babes in her arms, but she managed to accomplish the feat.

“What happened?” she heard Jon ask across from her, sitting in the middle of Daenerys and Rhaenys.

“The Son’s of the Harpy attacked us at the Great Games. They must have murdered hundreds at the fighting pit. If it was not for our dragons, we would have likely been killed. We burned them all. If it wasn’t for our direwolves, they would have harmed our children. Several of the servants attempted to come in, but were killed. There was an attack on the pyramid, but Ser Barristan and Grey Worm fought them off,” Daenerys explained in a calm, but seething voice.

Jon stood from his seat in a rage, not saying a word. She had never seen him this angry since finding out about the deaths of their father and Aegon as he paced back and forth. It pained her to see him like this, but she felt the same. Her anger was tempered by the presence of her children and she did not want to frighten them.

“Why have they left our ships untouched in the harbor? I did not see one of them burning,” Visenya asked.

“They think they can win, your Grace. The masters plan to take the ships for themselves and profit from them,” Ser Barristan answered.

“They will learn shortly there is no victory against dragons,” Rhaenys vowed, shaking her head. Her sister looked ready to light their ships ablaze this night and see everyone one of the masters hanged if she felt a generous Queen. “We planned to attack them on the morrow before you arrived. It took us all day to clear the area around the pyramid and organize our forces after the pit today.”

“Where did they get the ships and the men?” she asked. Visenya likely knew the answer, but wanted to hear if her guess was incorrect. _Volantis._

Before giving anyone a chance to answer, Jon spoke up, “Volantis. Who else? They are the closest to the former masters. If I had to guess, I would say the Iron Bank has a hand in this as well. Perhaps Tyrosh, Myr, and Lys as well.”

“We cannot let them go unpunished. They tried to kill our children,” Rhaenys fumed.

“And they won’t. We will deal with them in time. For now, we must deal with the battle outside the walls of Meereen,” Jon answered. “Grey Worm, have the Unsullied prepared to move out into the city on the morrow and kill the Son’s of the Harpy. Ser Jorah, have all the city watch you can gather take up positions along the city walls and retake the harbor. Daario, you will lead the Second Sons and Stormcrows. Find all the noble families of Meereen and take them prisoner. If any resist, kill them. Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur, gather our household guard and meet the host outside the gates after assisting the Unsullied in clearing out the city.”

Each of the men turned around to leave the room, except for Grey Worm, who stayed behind at Daenerys’ insistence. “Send word to the masters outside the city gates. We wish to negotiate a surrender.”

“I do not understand, your Grace,” Missandei said next to Grey Worm, who seemed to understand what Daenerys was thinking.

“The masters thought we were weak. They still do. Let them think we wish to negotiate the surrender of Meereen. When they present themselves, we will see our enemy and kill him,” she informed their loyal friend from the Isle of Naath.

 

“I see you returned with a new sword,” her mother said behind her as she laid her babes in their cribs to sleep for the night. “A Valyrian steel one at that.”

“It is Dark Sister,” she responded, turning around to find her mother with a disbelieving look.

“You are jesting. Dark Sister was lost,” her mother replied.

“It was lost with Bloodraven beyond the Wall. Silverclaw found it buried in the ground before the weirwood tree Uncle Benjen made his Night’s Watch vows in front of,” she replied. _I still do not understand how my dragon knew to find the sword there._

“I do not think I will ever understand these dragons,” her mother sighed. “I much prefer Zokla and the other direwolves. They are much more predictable and less likely to burn me alive.”

“Our dragons would never burn you Mother. You know that,” she assured, smiling at the thought of her mother worrying over them. _She is just saying that about them because she cannot ride one herself._

“What happened at the Wall? Your brother spoke of this Mance Rayder and letting the wildlings through the tunnel, but he said nothing of the battle,” her mother asked. _The free folk. We cannot call them wildlings anymore._

“They attacked in the night from the north and south. We were atop the Wall when they set the largest fire one has ever seen. More trees than one could count must have burned. Jon led the defense of the Wall when the Master at Arms had to fight off the attackers who were inside Castle Black. Eventually, we fought off the remaining attackers in the training yard. Then Robb arrived with all of the North. You know the rest,” Visenya told her mother, knowing she could have gone into further details. She was tired and needed her rest for the morning. _I can tell her more when we have fought this battle._

“You fought in the battle?” her mother asked. _I am about to be scolded like a child._ “I am so proud of you,” her mother let out, pulling her in for a tight hug. It was a surprise. She was always encouraged to learn how to wield a sword and carry a bow, but she expected a different response now that she was a Queen and a mother.

“Thank you, Mother,” she said, thinking of what her father would say about this. _Would he be proud of me?_ Visenya pushed the thought from her mind as she swiped a tear from the corner of her eye. _It will do me no good to think of him before the upcoming battle._

“How was your Uncle Aemon?”

“He is still the smartest person I have ever met, but I fear he is getting too old. I wish he were here, with his family,” she muttered. _He could have been the King. He should have been. The world is an unfair place and I fear I will never see him again._ Visenya did not want to say it, but she knew the chances of her Uncle Aemon living much longer were slim.

“Have hope Visenya. You will see him again. I know it,” her mother comforted her before withdrawing from the room to find her own bed.

Visenya made her way past Shadow and Snow sleeping on the floor near the door and walked down the hallway to find her bedchambers. Inside, she found a frustrated Jon removing his clothes with Daenerys’ assistance. Rhaenys was already lying in the bed, naked as her first nameday. Visenya started to discard her clothes with the comfort of Meereen’s warm climate that did not punish one for removing layers as Castle Black had.

“I need to be down there with our men, preparing them for battle,” Jon huffed out. He looked tired and frustrated in her eyes. She always thought he looked like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders and brooded too much. It was not uncommon for her to raise these concerns to Rhaenys and Daenerys who agreed with her. Every time she did bring up the matter however, they were always sure to remind her she would occasionally brood as well.

“You will be no use to them without your rest. You said so yourself. You have been flying since the morning,” Daenerys told him before throwing his smallclothes over her shoulder and pushing him back into the bed before mounting herself on his hips.

“I thought you said I needed my rest?” he asked as Daenerys twisted her hips, making his cock stir beneath her.

“You do. I just wanted to feel you. It has been miserable without you warming our bed,” Daenerys said as she slid from her position and snuggled into his side. Visenya tried to shake her thoughts that built up at the sight of his hard cock that was ready to enter her wet cunt. _We need our rest. A long day lies ahead of us._

Visenya finally removed her stockings and slipped into the bed behind her sister, who was flush against Jon’s side, clinging to his touch like a wife who has not seen her husband in years. As she settled herself under the smooth silk sheets, she shifted closer to Rhaenys to keep warm as a cool breeze rolled through.

“What happens after we have defeated the slavers?” Rhaenys asked, tracing circles over Jon’s chest.

“We prepare to leave Meereen. It is time and they have brought us more ships. When we fought the slave soldiers in Qohor, they fled once they knew they were defeated. The sailors on those ships will do the same when they see what a dragon can do to a ship,” Jon promised.

“What of Volantis and the others?” Visenya asked.

“Unless you disagree, we will take the city and kill every highborn slaver. They conspired to murder our children with the masters here. I am done showing these men mercy. I will not punish the women and children, but the men will die by the sword or fire. Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh will come next. I did not want to conquer them, but we do not have a choice now,” Jon said in a tired voice. _We have given them plenty of chances to change in our new world. They will die in their old one._ “I love you,” he told them before falling asleep.

Visenya felt herself start to find sleep as she nuzzled her nose into Rhaenys’ smooth and flowing, dark brown hair. She wanted to fall asleep to Jon’s touch, but this would do. Rhaenys and Daenerys had not seen him in a fortnight and she would not stop them from cherishing his touch for the night.

 

The morning after their return, Visenya found herself standing beside Jon with Daenerys and Rhaenys on his other side across from three former masters at an abandoned tower in the hills and mountains surrounding Meereen. She recognized each of them. Two of them were Meereenese who they had met when they first took the city. The leader standing in the middle was the Yunkish slaver who tried to bribe them with gold and ships to turn around from Yunkai. Behind them, she could still see the ships attacking the city, destroying buildings and setting them aflame.

“Once before, I offered you peace. If you had not been so arrogant, you could have returned to your homeland with a fleet of ships. Instead, you will flee Slaver’s Bay on foot like the beggar king you are,” the Yunkish slaver said. Jon did not show any reaction on his face, but she could sense Ser Oswell and Grey Worm tense up behind her.

“We are here to discuss a surrender,” she answered looking at the men who believe they have already won this battle.

“The terms of surrender are simple. You and your foreign friends will abandon the great pyramid and the city of Meereen. The Unsullied you stole from Kraznys mo Nakloz will be returned and sold to the highest bidder. The translator you stole from Kraznys mo Nakloz will be returned and sold to the highest bidder,” the one on the right told them. “And your dragons will be slaughtered.” _Even if we did wish to surrender, how would they propose killing our dragons?_

“We obviously didn’t communicate clearly. We are here to discuss your surrender, not ours,” Daenerys replied in an eerily calm tone.

“I imagine it is difficult, adjusting to the new reality. Your reign is over,” the Yunkish noble said. _These men put too much faith in their gold, slave soldiers, and friends in the other slaving cities._

“Our reign has just begun,” Daenerys stated, looking their enemy in the eye. It was then she heard a screech from what she thought was Drogon.

The panic on the slavers’ and their soldiers’ faces brought a smile to her face. They all ducked to the ground when Drogon flew up and over them, appearing from nowhere. The black dragon flew around the tower behind them before landing behind them. She turned to see Daenerys climbing up Drogon when she saw Vermithrex, Myrax, and her Silverclaw land to get their riders.

There was nothing left to be said to these dead men as Visenya walked over to her awaiting dragon. She knew Silverclaw was ready for battle. She had flown her all the way across the world. _Battling slave soldiers should come easy._

Jon and Daenerys took to the air, but Rhaenys stayed there on Myrax staring down at the masters who for the first time showed true fear. It was when she concentrated on her sister’s face that she realized she was not going to follow through with their plan. _I disagree, but I will not stop her._

“Dracarys!” Rhaenys shouted and her crimson-scaled dragon engulfed the masters and their soldiers in dragonfire. She did not even hear screams from them. Visenya felt guilt over the slave soldiers who perished. _They were forced to fight with no choice of their own, but this is war._

“Sovegon!” she commanded Silverclaw and her dragon took to the air over the Bay of Dragons. She looked back to find Rhaenys right behind her on Myrax. Visenya shifted her attention to Jon and Daenerys flying to the east toward their pyramid to gather the remaining dragons. It was hard to fight the urge to fly down and burn the ships from Volantis now, but she knew they should show their full strength and intimidate the attacking fleet.

As the flew over the great pyramid, Silverclaw let out a cry for the others below to join them. From the gardens near their pyramid, Visenya watched Darkskye, Vyraxes, Viserion, Rhaegal, Kios, Sonar, Stormfyre, and Moonlight all take to the sky after them. From there, they guided their dragons to the southern gate of Meereen that leads to the road to Yunkai. Down in the streets, she could see their black armored household guard carrying their banner into battle against the Harpies who were attempting to take the gate from the city watch who still defended from attackers within and outside the walls.

At the head of their column, she could spot Arthur and Barristan in their golden armor cutting down men from their great destriers. Her gaze shifted from the fighting in the streets to the ten thousand men outside the gate wanting to get in. Jon led them in their descent toward the army from Volantis and unleashed Vermithrex upon the helpless soldiers.

Jon cut through the center of their force with dragonfire, while Daenerys and Rhaenys created great walls of flame around their flank. Visenya brought Silverclaw around their rear and burned those who attempted to flee. Hundreds must have perished in the flames from her dragons as Darkskye and Vyraxes followed her lead, ending their foes’ retreat. They only needed one pass and they could tell their foe was defeated as their Kingsguard burst through the gates with thousands of their men riding out to run down the ones lucky enough to survive the firestorm. _I am glad we did not have to do this to the free folk._

Circling around the southeastern corner of Meereen, Visenya finally came upon the attacking Volantene fleet that did not let up its barrage on the city. She looked over to Daenerys who pointed at the closest ships for them to attack. Jon and Rhaenys flew further out to attack the ships who would be first to flee the bay.

Silverclaw glided down, nearly sixty feet above the water when she came to a halt, flying in position over an unsuspecting warship. Visenya looked around the neck of her dragon to see all the sailors aboard the ship’s deck had stopped what they were doing and stared in awe. “Dracarys,” she ordered her dragon who did not hesitate to bathe the Volantenes with her flames. It was impressive to see the wooden ship burn and crumble so quickly.

The two closest ships to her also broke apart and sunk fast below the surface after being attacked by Darkskye and Vyraxes. Visenya moved Silverclaw forward to attack the others until she saw sailors waving their arms in defeat. Most of them began to jump overboard as she continued her approach. Knowing it was over, she halted her attack and turned her dragon back up in the sky to get a better look at the happenings below.

From above, she watched the attacking fleet surrender after seeing what the dragons had done with just one pass. Targaryen ships began to put to sea as she saw three open their sails and leave their position along the docks. _Ser Jorah must have retaken the port already._

After flying in circles above the bay to ensure the surrender of the Volantene fleet, Visenya flew above the city itself to make sure there were no large battles being fought in the streets. Groups of Unsullied marched down the streets and took up positions throughout several squares. Occasionally, she saw some fighting, but nothing that called for her intervention. They had won this battle, but the war against the slavers was not over. _The Great Masters still need to meet their end. Hopefully Daario and his sellswords prove themselves useful. Then we can finally begin our journey west and deal with Volantis before we return home._

 

 

**Daenerys Targaryen**

Daenerys now sat there, waiting where it all began two days ago, in the great fighting pit of Meereen. This time, there were no people in the stands there to watch men kill each other for sport. Today, men would die in the pit, but not for sport. They would face justice and her revenge. She looked around to see their dragons settling in the stands around them.

Standing to her left was the uneasy Lord Commander of their Kingsguard. Ser Barristan counseled restraint and mercy. The old knight urged them to hold trials for the Great Masters and Jon was nearly ready to acquiesce until she reminded him these men tried to butcher their children. Ser Barristan made sure to remind them of her father, which always struck a chord within Jon. He always feared being compared to the worst of rulers in their family’s history and her father was someone he did not wish to be compared to.

Daenerys with Rhaenys’ help told him he could not be further from her father. _Some will frown upon burning these slavers but I cannot have Jon swinging Longclaw all day, doing things the old way, as Ned Stark put it. Every time we have held back and shown these men mercy, they take advantage of us. No longer._

“Your Graces, we are ready to bring them in,” Daario said as he walked up with a knowing smirk. Their sellsword captain was getting what he wanted all along. He had once told her a ruler is either a butcher or meat. When they first took the city, he argued they should kill all the masters like they had in Astapor. She dismissed the idea until now, after constant betrayal and killing of Meereenese smallfolk.

“Send them in,” Jon ordered, standing next to her with his arms crossed. Anyone could see the conflict within him, but she knew he would follow through with this.

The moment the gates open to their right where the fighters had come out before thousands of onlookers for hundreds of years, Drogon and the rest of their dragons roared with fury. She found it amusing that the men who had sent so many to their deaths like lambs to the slaughter now found themselves to be the ones facing certain death.

All of them were dragging their feet, knowing they were walking to their end. Facing the spears of the Unsullied guarding them, each of the Great Masters of Meereen entered the pit. They were young and old. Some cried and some carried defiant looks. Others cursed at them while others were silent as a crypt. The oldest of them seemed prepared to die, while the rest were more defiant or scared.

Once they were all corralled into a huddled mass before them, she saw Nakaz zo Dhazak step forward with tears in his eyes. The man was familiar to her. He was the head of a great House of Meereen that was one of its oldest and richest. The man lost his father when they took the city and always gave the appearance of a man accepting his new rulers. _I knew better. He was too kind with his words for a son who lost a father. The fool always thought we believed his mummer’s farce._

Daenerys looked behind him to see members of Houses Merreq, Galare, Hazkar, Kandaq, Naqqan, Pahl, Reznak, Ghazeen, Rhazdar, and Zhak. Nakaz dropped to his knees and began to plead in Valyrian, “Please, my King and Queens. Do not do this. This was the doing of Yunkai and Volantis. I promise to punish those in our families who conspired against you. We beg mercy and ask for your forgiveness. We have seen the error of our ways.”

“You promised us once before and we listened. We gave you a chance. We gave you all a chance. House Targaryen did not steal your wealth nor took your homes from you. You did not need slaves to remain great Houses, but you conspired against us still. Do not lie to me and think me fool enough to believe you had nothing to do with the Son’s of the Harpy or the Volantene fleet. Time after time, we showed restraint and let you live. Sending men to kill my sons and daughters is not something I will forget nor forgive,” Jon answered with fury, walking to the edge of the royal box.

Several of the Meereenese cried out, pleading for their lives to be spared upon seeing her husband’s anger. _They know this is the end._ Thankfully, their desperate pleas for help were silenced by Drogon’s roar to her right, next to Vermithrex who was silent as Ghost.

“I, Jon of the House Targaryen, First of His Name, Khal of the Great Grass Sea, King of Essos, and rightful King of Westeros, sentence you to die. Dracarys,” he said in a controlled voice, staring each of the slavers in the eye before they perished from this world.

Their dragons moved forward and burned all of them until their bodies collapsed to the ground and turned to ashes and molten bones. The sight and screams were horrific. The smell even more so. She wished to never see such a thing again, but Daenerys did not regret it. They spared the women and children of these families. House Targaryen left them enough gold to live the rest of their days in comfort, but they did lose most of their grand wealth. _I will not leave them enough coin to move against us again. I know some of their women are just as evil as their husbands._

“You did the right thing my son,” she heard Lyanna next to her who rested an assuring hand on Jon’s shoulder. _Volantis is lucky Lyanna was not born with the blood of Old Valyria. The city would be a smoldering rubble by now if she was._

The attempt on the children’s lives left their grandmother furious and Daenerys was surprised at how enraged she was. Lyanna was a protective mother and even more so for her grandchildren. She was not a typical Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, who loved archery and horseback riding. But Lyanna was never one to display anger like she did over the past two days.

“Mayhaps,” was all Jon could say as he walked down from the box and into the fighting pit as the flames withered and died. Daenerys looked to Visenya and Rhaenys who looked concerned over Jon’s reaction to what they had done. Both followed her down the steps at the side of the box to go speak with their husband and King.

“Jon, my love, you did nothing wrong. It was them or us,” she said, resting her hand on his back as she took his side.

“It was simpler, when we were riding from Pentos to Vaes Dothrak. I fear this is something we will be remembered for. The King who burns his enemies,” he let out in despair.

“No, you will be remembered as a great King. A King who fights for his people. The King who freed the slaves in the Bay of Dragons. A King who loves his children and would do anything to protect them. And if the histories are unkind to our memory, I do not care. We have each other and our family. That is all I care for,” she stated, trying to soothe his worries. _He is a decisive ruler, but he is still my Jon, always wanting to follow the most honorable path. Something Ned Stark instilled in him._

“Aye. As long as we have each other,” he replied before leaning down to seal his lips with hers. Visenya and Rhaenys came up to his sides, trying to ease his stress and concern over how they ruled. “I could not do this without you. I want you to know that, my loves.”

Daenerys simply nodded, pulling herself closer to his front, not wanting to let him go. “Are we finally going to leave this city behind?” Rhaenys asked while resting her head against the side of Jon’s shoulder.

“We will. It should not be long before we have the necessary ships and are ready to sail for Volantis. They will pay for what they have done. And we find out any of the others had a hand in this, we will take their cities as well,” Jon promised, pulling all three of them into his embrace.

They were finally beginning to turn their attention west and towards the Iron Throne. _We will be back on Dragonstone in a year, two at the most. House Lannister will meet a quick end if we are feeling generous._

 

Daenerys was lying on her side, trying to cool down as a steady breeze flowed through the terrace into their bedchambers. She was still covered in sweat after exerting herself for the past two hours. Her heart was still pounding from the pleasure Jon had given her, sending her over her edge a handful of times during this night.

Staring out at the beautiful night sky, she felt Jon stir behind her. She did not know if she could handle anymore this night, but was relieved to find his soft, warm lips leave a trail of gentle kisses up the side of her leg up to her waist. “Tell me something good,” she moaned at the feel of his touch. _He still makes me feel like a maid in love with a brave knight._

“You, us. What our life will look like when all the wars have been fought and won. We will travel to Summerhall and raise our children there. We will take them to Dragonstone and Winterfell. Show them where we grew up and fell in love. We will grow old together to watch our princes and princesses find someone they love and have children of their own,” he said softly behind her, running his hand through her hair the way she loved. _I love every way he touches me. I would be lost without him._

“That does sound good,” she let out as he nuzzled his nose into her hair splayed across her pillow while his hand gently teased her breast while his cock rubbed against her ass. She made sure to twist her hips back into his front, to see how easily she could make him hard for her.

“If you do not stop that, I cannot promise I will keep my hands off you and go at it again,” he said in a husky voice before sucking on her neck, making sure to leave his mark on her. _I am going to kill him._ Knowing she could always drive him mad, she moved her ass back into his cock, trying to coax a reaction from him.

Right after she did so, Jon moved over her, and spread her legs apart. He did not meet any resistance as she reached for his cock to guide him into her wet folds that were always seeking his entrance. Daenerys thought he was perfect for her as he thrust into her cunt, sending waves of pleasure through her body.

“Dany, yes, right there. Cum for me,” he growled into her ear as he furiously slammed his hips into her open legs. She could feel his strong hands pull just hard enough on her hair as he kept his eyes locked with her own. He was already doing enough to make her hooded eyes see stars before he made her cry his name when he dropped a hand down to play with her clit.

Daenerys lost control as her limbs writhed under his thrusts and her mouth uttered sweet words in Valyrian, letting him know what he could do to her. Reaching her climax, she dug her nails into his back, surely drawing blood while her legs wrapped around his legs trying to bring him impossibly deeper into her core.

She was amazed he still held enough stamina to spill into her, reaching his peak, after making love to her, Visenya, and Rhaenys earlier. _He may even be a better lover than a swordsman or King. Rhaenys always says so._

The moment he fell into her embrace, with his entire weight on her, she heard Visenya and Rhaenys enter. Holding his head on her chest, running a hand through his raven curls, she saw them purse their lips, knowing she was the last to get her fill for the night. Both sauntered over to the bed and crawled over to lay kisses on Jon’s shoulder and back.

He finally gathered his strength and rolled over, pulling all three of them close against his body, with Rhaenys on top. “I thought you said you were finished for the night. Did you lie to me Jon?” Rhaenys said in her seductive voice that would tempt any man in this world.

“I did not lie love. You can blame Dany,” he let out as she saw Rhaenys mimic what her hips were doing to Jon earlier. Daenerys could not stop herself from letting out a huff. _As if he did not enjoy it._

“Come morning, I expect to be surprised then,” Rhaenys replied before kissing Jon with the same passion she always held for him.

Visenya had been awfully silent, so she looked up to see what she was doing. Daenerys found Visenya already asleep. Ever since she had returned from the Wall, she had not left her children’s presence. Daenerys felt fortunate that she had never been away from her children more than a day. _I could not bear to be parted from them for a fortnight after seeing how much it upset Visenya._

As Rhaenys rested her head on Jon’s chest, Daenerys moved closer to stay warm, with her sex flush against his hip. She placed a light kiss on his arm before resting her head on her pillow and closing her eyes. Rest came easy after being thoroughly fucked and worshipped by the man she loved.

 

 

**Allyria Tyrell**

She found herself beaming as she sat at the center of table in the great hall deep within the pyramid next to her husband, Willas Tyrell. On her other side sat her mother and uncle, with Lyanna and Elia further down the table on the dais. At Willas’ side sat Jon, Rhaenys, Daenerys, and Visenya. Before them were dancers and singers, putting on a performance to entertain the small wedding feast while the food was being brought to the tables.

Her wedding ceremony had gone perfectly. _Better than I had imagined._ Allyria wanted to wait to marry Willas in Westeros, preferably at his home, Highgarden. _My future home._ Rhaenys and her mother had a splendid ivory silk dress made for her and could not be happier with their choice.

Willas eventually broke through her walls and convinced her that they should wait no longer to marry. There was no septon to be found in Meereen, so they married before a tree in the gardens in the northern fashion. Allyria wished her father could have been there to see her married and escort her to Willas. _We did not have enough time together. That was stolen from us._ In her father’s place, her uncle gave her away to Willas.

The moment the dancers left the open floor between them and the tables below, little Rhaegar was chasing after Arya. She could not stop from laughing at her cute little niece and nephew running around. They were so innocent and did not truly know the evils of this world. _And I hope they never do._

“Have you told anyone yet?” Willas whispered in her ear for none to hear.

“No, I have not. It is too early,” she replied. Tonight, she just wanted to celebrate being Willas’ lady wife. It was also to early in her mind to tell anyone of the babe growing inside her. Allyria prayed for a son, who would one day rule the Reach and be as strong as his father.

“I think your mother knows,” he replied. She turned to look at her mother speaking with Lyanna.

“What makes you say that?” she asked.

“Just the way she looks at you, especially when you were watching the little prince and princess run around,” Willas answered. _Am I that obvious? I guess I cannot deny it. I want nothing more than to hold a babe of my own._

“I know you wish your family was here to see this. I am sorry…,” she tried to say until he stopped her.

“Do not apologize Allyria. You are my wife and should never be sorry. You are my family now and are the most important thing in my life. I came to Meereen looking for my King. I did not expect to find a woman to love and marry. To carry our child and share my life with,” he cut in, making her heart flutter. She still felt sorry for him. He never said it, but she could tell he missed Highgarden and his family.

Allyria felt lucky to have her mother with her in Essos along with her uncle and cousins. She still missed Arya and Sansa. Every morning she woke, she wondered where they were and prayed they were safe, far away from the Lannisters. She did not know them as brothers, but she hoped to see Robb, Bran, and Rickon again.

Visenya told her they had told Robb of the truth and he wished to see her when she returned to Westeros. Most of her worries were unfounded and she was grateful to know her brother was not angered to find out he had a sister that was not trueborn.

The feast continued for another hour and she took time to discuss the ceremony and what marriage was like with Rhaenys. Finding herself back in her seat, she wanted to ask Willas if they could retire. Just as she began to open her mouth to speak with him, she felt her mother’s hand come to rest on her own on the table.

“I am happy for you Allyria. You are the most precious thing to me in my life and I know your father would have been proud to see this day. Willas is a man of honor and knows he is lucky to have you as his lady. I know your husband will be even happier when your child is born,” her mother said.

“How did you know?” she asked.

“A mother knows these things. You will find this out one day when you have daughters of your own,” her mother replied with a smile on her face. “Anyway, it looks like Willas wants to be away from this feast more than you do. I will leave you to it.” Her mother squeezed her hand and stood to retire for the evening from the hall.

Allyria turned back to Willas and pulled on his arm to get his attention. “Let us retire for the night. Your lady wife commands it,” she ordered. Seeing the smirk on his lips, she knew he was thinking the same.

Without saying a word, he stood from his chair and held out an arm for her lock with her own to be escorted back to their bedchambers. One good thing about being married in Essos was the lack of a bedding ceremony, for which she was grateful for. _The only man who shall see me in such a state shall be Willas and no other._

It was a long walk back to their chambers on the second highest level of the pyramid and Willas carried her in his arms halfway to their room. Some may roll their eyes, but she found it romantic and appreciated his gesture. Her eyes did not leave his and she knew he loved her. _Dany and Rhae always said love comes in the eyes. They were right._

Entering their room, she saw Winter step aside, ready to stand guard at their door. Her direwolf seemed eager to reveal their secret every chance she got. The other wolves always sensed when the Queens were pregnant and would sniff their stomachs, knowing a child grew inside. Winter was no different and had on several occasions tried to let everyone know she was with child. _Perhaps that is how Mother knew._

Now at the foot of their bed, Willas gently settled her down on the bed and knelt down to capture her lips. He ran his hand through her braided hair while she rested a hand on his strong chest. Without thinking, she began to undo his doublet and start to remove his clothes.

Knowing if she did not act soon, he would rip her dress off her with the look in his eyes, Allyria stood to begin her undress. Fortunately for Willas and herself if she was being honest, her wedding dress was beautiful but simple. When her dress pooled at her feet, her husband stared in awe as if he had never seen her before.

He lifted his warm hands to her large breasts, fondling her nipple with his thumb while dipping down to take the other in his mouth. It was then her body took control as she tossed her head back at the pleasure he brought her. Willas knew she was ready for him and she heard her breast pop from his mouth before he slowly worked his way down to her nub.

His tongue always made her even wetter for him as she ran her fingers through his scalp, holding his head tight against her cunt. He knew how to make her come undone, sucking on her clit and lapping her folds like a lord possessed.

“Oh gods, fuck! Right there, do not stop,” she moaned as she felt his hands squeeze her ass. “Yes, keep going,” she let out as he did not let up from her clit. Unable to hold off any longer, she let out a scream and felt her legs give out as she saw stars in her eyes as she collapsed onto their bed behind her.

It did not seem to dissuade her eager husband, who continued his work and spread her legs as wide as he could. He had acquired a taste for her cunt and she could not complain. When they first shared a bed, he did not try to give her the lord’s kiss. It was only after she asked that he did and he seemed to like it.

She did not know if she could get any wetter for him as her folds were soaking and ready for him. Allyria was about to sit up and beg for his entrance until he drove her to her peak again. Sobbing his name, she found her body was sweating from what he was putting her through.

“Allyria, you are the most beautiful thing in this world,” he let out through his heavy breaths as he moved back up to capture her lips with his hands squeezing her breasts. She could taste herself on his lips and it only made her desire him more.

Not wanting to wait further, she slid a hand down to stroke his hard member. Her encouragement seemed to do the trick and he slid his cock along her cunt before finally sliding into her. His cock hit the back of her walls and she wrapped her legs around his own as best she could, hoping he could somehow go even deeper into her.

“Fuck, right there my love. Faster, faster,” she panted while digging her nails into his back. She was ready to scream more, but Willas leaned down to seal his lips to hers. As his tongue found its way into her mouth, she accidently bit him as her body writhed uncontrollably as she came for him.

She wanted to apologize but did not when she saw him laugh for a brief moment before quickening his thrusts into her to find his own release. Willas was filling her to the hilt and she started to play with her clit. His cock seemed to be ready to explode as her cunt tightened its hold around him.

“Oh fuck!” he growled as he coated her walls with his seed. He did not stop his pounding until he knew he was completely spent, much to her satisfaction. Falling into her arms, she ran her hand through his hair to the nape of his neck as his face was buried in the crook of her neck. “I love you,” he whispered, attempting to recover.

“I love you too,” she answered as he laid on top of her, both drenched in sweat from their lovemaking. _I know he will be a great father. He is already a better husband than any lady could ask for._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure I did the best job writing Jon in this chapter. My intention was to show he wanted the nobles of Meereen dead, but also holds a deep fear of being compared to Aerys. Good news for readers who hate Meereen, next chapter is the last one there. Ch 28 POVs will be Jon, Rhaenys, & Rhaella.


	28. Farewell to the Bay of Dragons

**Jon Targaryen**

The seagulls were gliding along the strong winds sweeping in from the bay into the port as Jon walked the docks with Willas Tyrell to inspect the progress of the final ships being constructed. Men were hard at work, running back and forth with tools and the wood required to build the Targaryen navy. The ships on the docks nearest him were in the water and only needed small parts added for them to be completed.

At the end of the docks, Jon could see his Hand, Lord Davos Seaworth overseeing the preparations of the warships that would be used for their planned attack on Volantis. The onion knight had only arrived a fortnight ago and the old man was reluctant to be named his Hand. Davos argued that the lords of the Seven Kingdoms would not like it and made the case for Stannis to be named Hand. Jon dismissed the notion, saying the Stormlands need the Lord of Storm’s End when the wars are over. The argument was eventually resolved when he ordered Lord Davos to accept, saying he was his King and that meant he gets what he wants. _I did not truly believe that and Davos knew it._

“Your Grace, Lord Willas,” Davos greeted them when he finally noticed them approaching.

“Lord Davos,” he replied, turning to look up at the sails being placed on the mast of the ship beside them.

“If I may my King, would it not be wise to set sail now and attack Volantis? The longer we wait, the longer they have to prepare for your arrival. They will be expecting it,” Davos asked. Jon knew he had a point, but he wanted to be prepared to ferry their Dothraki from Volantis to Dragonstone after taking the city.

“Aye, we will not have the element of surprise, but we will have dragons and a larger fleet. Ser Jorah has already made for Tolos and Mantarys. We need to give our khalasar time to gather and ride for Volantis. With them surrounding the city by land and us attacking by sea, they cannot win. I am not fool enough to underestimate the losses they could inflict upon us, but they will fall,” he informed his Hand, resisting the urge to tell him about their secret ally in Volantis. He had already sent Melisandre on a ship for Volantis to speak with them.

“You chose me as your Hand because you know I will tell you the hard truths. That is why I must warn you again not to trust Lady Melisandre. If you had seen what I have, you would not have sent her to Volantis for whatever it is you want her to do,” Davos said.

“I understand, but trust me and my Queens. She was the only one we could send for what we have planned for Volantis. I promise you, she we will not be using any of her supposed dark magic in our name. She departed with explicit orders. She promised to serve House Targaryen and if she breaks her vow to us, I will have her hanged,” he promised Davos. _I hope he knows I am just as skeptical of those who worship the Lord of Light._

“Your Grace! Your Grace!” one of his household guard came rushing over to Ser Arthur’s side. “Lord Varys has arrived. He is not alone. The Imp is with him.” _What in the seven hells is going on? Varys was meant to stay in King’s Landing. I am surprised he lasted this long under Lord Tywin. And why is Tyrion with him? He is not a valuable hostage. Only Jaime would want to save him._

He nodded his head, dismissing the soldier in black armor. Looking down the dock, his eyes caught Varys being escorted by ten of his men with Tyrion marching right alongside the Spider. Jon noticed a large scar across Tyrion’s face. He looked far different than when he last saw him at Winterfell. He looked tired and miserable. The dwarf also grew out a beard unlike before.

“The Bastard Prince!” Tyrion declared standing before him. _Many would expect me to remove his head from his shoulders, but I understand his jest. I once thought of him as a friend._

“The Dwarf of Casterly Rock!” he replied with a stern face, unable to hold back his smile for long and reaching out to shake his hand.

“I believe we last saw each other when you were swinging away at a practice dummy,” Tyrion said.

“Aye. You were pissing in the stables at Winterfell,” he replied, recalling the part of the night before he was wed to Daenerys. _A part of our story I will leave out when I tell my children._ “Picked up some scars along the road.”

“It has been a long road,” Tyrion responded grimly.

“I am sorry my friend, but why are you here? I know you had nothing to do with what happened to my brother and father, but my Queens may think otherwise. Especially Rhaenys. If she saw you here now, I fear she would have your head. I will need a good reason to keep you alive,” he told Tyrion.

“Good! More people who want me dead. It is a long list. Tell Queen Rhaenys I am good company who drinks and knows things. And if that does not convince her, tell her it would be unwise to turn away the greatest killer of Lannisters this world has known. I killed my mother when I was born. I supposedly killed my cunt nephew. I do not take credit for it, but I will if it means keeping my head here. The murder I can claim is that of my father,” Tyrion responded in his typical fashion. _Tywin Lannister is dead?_

“You killed your father?” he asked. Jon always knew the Lord of Casterly Rock hated his son, but he did not expect Tyrion to be driven to murder. _I guess that is what happens when one’s father puts him on trial for a murder he did not commit._

“He wanted me dead, so I killed him. And before you ask, I did not send the assassin after your cousin, despite what Catelyn Stark thinks. I do not know who could have done that. If it does any good, I will blame Joffrey until that truth is ever revealed,” Tyrion explained.

“So, you have killed your father and fled King’s Landing. Why are you here?” he asked. _I would have guessed he would have sailed for Lys to spend the rest of his days in the pleasure houses._

“To find a King to serve. A good King, who does not spend his time ordering the killing of infants and tormenting innocent girls such as Sansa Stark. But if I am being honest, I want revenge against Cersei. She has wanted me dead for years. I want to see her face when you take back the Iron Throne,” he responded.

“And why are you here, Lord Varys?” Jon asked his Master of Whispers.

“I helped him escape. I did not think he would kill Tywin along the way. Then I had no choice, but to flee. I also carry important news from the Eyrie. My little birds still sing songs from all the way in the Vale and their latest song was most interesting. Your cousin, Sansa Stark is alive and wed to Lord Harrold Arryn. They now rule the Vale and have declared for House Targaryen,” Varys answered. _Sansa is safe._

“I told Harrold not to remove his cousin,” he said, thinking of how he would handle his loyal ally disobeying a direct command.

“He did not my King. I am sorry to say the boy perished when they attempted to make Lord Baelish answer for the murder of Lysa Arryn. The details are unclear, but I must say it was for the best my King,” Varys replied. _Can I trust what he tells me or holds back?_

“His mother did him no favors, but he did not deserve to die,” he answered. _I will never say it, but I am relieved to know I will never have to ride off for the Vale one day to remove a troublesome boy ruling over it. Now I have family ruling the Vale and North, and with them comes the Riverlands and the Reach. All that remains in opposition are the Westerlands, Dorne, and the Iron Islands._

 

“We should kill him and be done with it,” Rhaenys said from across the table next to Daenerys.

“He killed his father. Cersei wants him dead. He knows their strengths and weaknesses. We have not been in King’s Landing for years. His advice could prove invaluable,” Jon tried to reason with her.

“I will never trust a Lannister again. Have you forgotten what they did? How they helped Viserys betray Father and Egg?” she asked furiously.

“Of course not. Who do you think I am?” he responded.

“You are wrong about him. He may want Cersei dead, but what about Tommen or Myrcella? When it comes down to them or us, he will choose his blood no matter what he says. And I can promise you, he will do everything he can to spare Jaime,” Rhaenys said, giving him a deathly stare.

“Tommen and Myrcella are children. I will not have them killed for their mother’s crimes,” he responded.

“Do not lie to yourself. They will have to be killed. They have made a claim to the Iron Throne and Tommen sits on it now. As long as they both live, there will be the threat of rebellion against our rule and that of our children’s,” Rhaenys said.

“She is not wrong Jon. I will not have Tommen and Myrcella, or their heirs threaten Rhaegar’s future reign. But I do think we can use Tyrion’s counsel. We just have to be careful and watch him closely,” Daenerys added.

“I do not think Tyrion would betray us,” Visenya said next to him. “He is not his father. He will want Tommen and Myrcella spared, but if he pledges himself to us, he will make for a good Lord of the Westerlands.”

“Fine, let him counsel us, but remember I warned you. As your Queen, I must insist you allow him to give his advice and nothing else. I do not want him to have any power to command our armies or navy,” Rhaenys said.

“Aye. If that is what you want, I will not disagree,” he replied, knowing they did not need another person to lead their men anyways. Their Kingsguard could lead the Targaryen army, Grey Worm the Unsullied, and Rakharo, Kovarro, and Qhono the Dothraki. _Daario will stay in Meereen, but he does not know it yet._

“Ser Barristan, have them come in,” Visenya ordered the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard to send Tyrion and Lord Davos into their solar.

Moments after the old knight left to get them, they returned with Tyrion already holding a cup of wine in hand. _I need a sober advisor, not a drunk and depressed lord. Perhaps I was wrong._ Tyrion took the chair at the end of the table while Davos sat to his right between himself and Tyrion.

Daenerys reached across the table, snatching up his cup. “Maybe I was wrong to accept your counsel. I do not need you deep into your cups this early into the day.”

“This is what I do best. I drink and I know things. You know this my Queen,” Tyrion replied with a grin.

“Tell us what you know. What do you think we should do?” Daenerys requested.

“Stay here in Meereen,” Tyrion replied.

“If I wanted to laugh, I could find myself a proper fool,” Daenerys followed up, glaring at the Imp with disapproval.

“I do not jest. Fuck Westeros and fuck King’s Landing. What do you want with it? I have heard of what you have done here. Few rulers truly get the chance to make the people’s life better and you have. You ended slavery and established a peace from Pentos to Qarth with the Dothraki no longer raping and pillaging every small village in sight. Perhaps Essos is where you are needed,” Tyrion said, shifting his eyes away from Rhaenys as Jon saw his wife stare daggers at him.

“Essos is not our home. And the smallfolk of Westeros will need us. Five of the Seven Kingdoms have declared for us. Perhaps you do not want to hurt your family after all,” Daenerys stated in a cool tone.

“Why don’t you ask Queen Rhaenys about fighting family. If you return to Westeros, Dorne must be dealt with. Are you prepared to fight your uncle and cousins, my Queen?” Tyrion directed toward Rhaenys who did not flinch.

“I am. My uncle betrayed me and my mother. And now Oberyn is dead. I will remove him from power and those fools who call themselves my cousins. Arianne will rule Dorne. She would never betray me. The day he sent her to King’s Landing was the day he lost Dorne,” Rhaenys replied. _I hope she is right. I much prefer Arianne to Quentyn or Trystane._ Quentyn Martell always acted too familiar around Daenerys for Jon’s liking and Trystane was just a boy last he saw him.

“Good, hold onto that anger. You will need it if you are to follow through with your plans. What happens to the Westerlands and the Iron Islands when you retake the Iron Throne?” Tyrion asked. _There it is. I cannot blame him. Casterly Rock should have been promised to him long ago. He is wise to pair the subject with that of House Greyjoy._

“The Greyjoys will burn for what they did to the North. Father did not go far enough. I will burn Pyke to the ground and stop there if I am forgiving,” Visenya vowed beside him. She was rarely one who angered easily, but she always despised Theon and his betrayal always caused her blood to boil.

“I presume you want the Rock when the dust settles,” Jon said, looking for a reaction from Tyrion. He could see the smirk under Tyrion’s beard.

“If you give it to me, I will not refuse. All I wish is to see my sister fall and play the game. It is what I am good at. I did not expect it. I served as Hand for a time and did well, given the circumstances. Serving a mad boy who called himself King is harder than you can imagine,” Tyrion said.

“I can imagine,” he replied. _Joffrey was a cunt. And that was before he wore a crown._

“So, am I going to serve House Targaryen or be fed to the dragons?” Tyrion asked, sitting back in the chair waiting for their answer.

“You will serve, but if you betray us, I will not stop Rhaenys from having Myrax burn you alive,” he stated, turning to look at Davos who remained silent observing the conversation. “Lord Davos will fill you in on our plans for Volantis. My Queens and I need to speak with Lord Varys now. I expect to see you later at dinner. One of the maids will show you to the great hall,” he informed Tyrion before standing to leave their solar and find out what the Spider had to say about the happenings across Westeros.

 

 

**Rhaenys Targaryen**

“I don’t want to go mother!” little Arya protested, throwing her small wooden sword across the room. Rhaenys felt sorry for Daenerys having to deal with the willful little princess. _She is just like her namesake. Thank the gods mine are not old enough to be attached to Meereen._

Everyone was scrambling to gather their final belongings for the journey to Volantis and it was turning into a bit of chaos in the royal apartment. Doreah did her best to keep the children together while they picked up anything they had failed to send to their ship waiting at the docks. Meereen was the only home Rhaegar and Arya had known. Her heart would break if Aegon or Nymeria were old enough to be attached to this place.

Looking over to her bed, Rhaenys walked over to pick up a sculpture she was gifted by an elderly woman whom they freed from slavery. The small gift reminded her of what she had done right, freeing these people, and not sailing back to Westeros at the first chance they got.

“Arya, my sweetling, go pick up your sword and stand by your brother. What do you think your father would say about throwing your sword around? Do you see him throwing Longclaw around? Visenya does not treat Dark Sister that way,” Daenerys responded. Arya huffed and ran to pick up her sword and stand beside Rhaegar. Rhaenys had to give it to Daenerys, she knew how to make Arya behave. The little princess adored Visenya and thought the world of her just because she held a sword.

She could not help but smile at Rhaegar behaving like a proper prince, not moving an inch. _He is just like his father at that age._ The little Crown Prince even dressed in black like his father. Rhaenys began to notice Aegon had begun to do the same, preferring clothing that was their House colors. _At least I am able to dress Nymeria and Daenys any way I prefer._

“Are we nearly finished here?” she heard Jon enter, looking around at their place they had called home for two years. Rhaenys watched Arya run over to Jon with her three oldest sisters following behind in their little dresses that ranged from colorful reds to the grey one Arya wore.

“Father!” Arya yipped, colliding into his leg, holding on for dear life. Rhaenys found their daughters had already learned to go to him for everything. He never said no to them. She could not help but roll her eyes. “Mother won’t let us stay.”

“Be a brave warrior princess for me. See Ghost over there?” Jon got on one knee and asked Arya. The little girl twisted her head, sending her silver hair flying around to look at Ghost standing guard with watchful red eyes on all of them. Arya turned back around and nodded her head. “Go over there and help him. He is lonely protecting the realm over there and he needs a princess at his side with a sword. I promise, we will take you home to Westeros where your mother and I were raised. You will love it. Now go.”

Rhaenys picked up Daenys off the ground to get her off Jon. “We should be ready to leave soon. I have everything I need. Is there anything wrong?” she asked.

“No, everything is set. I just can’t believe we are finally turning west. I miss home, but I will miss the memories we had here,” he said, taking in their apartment for the final time.

“Do you think we will ever return?” she asked as Daenys snaked her arms around her neck.

“I do not know. Maybe? Years from now, when we are old, and Rhaegar is old enough to rule in our stead?” Jon said. Rhaenys could tell he was relieved to leave Meereen behind, but part of him missed what they had built here.

“Do not worry, we will build new memories when we are home,” she said before he leaned down to take her lips. She could hear Daenys voice something that sounded like disapproval of their affection. Upon the release of his lips, she heard her sister enter, encouraging Arya to get up to mischief. When Rhaenys peered over in their direction, she saw Princess Senya, Dany, and Nymeria following close behind to embrace their older sister.

“Are we leaving? I had my things gathered and ready to be carried off two days ago,” her sister said, walking over in a revealing red dress similar to her own in the Meereenese fashion. Rhaenys was surprised to find her without Dark Sister at her hip. _Today, she wants the people of Meereen to remember her as a Queen who brought peace and not remind them of war._

“Yes, sister, we know. You are always prepared and ready to go at a moment’s notice like some squire ready to ride off for a tourney,” she responded, causing Visenya to purse her lips.

“I am just saying we have known this day was coming,” her sister vented looking impatient to leave. Rhaenys laughed knowing when she first arrived in the Bay of Dragons, she held that same impatience. She knew her temper could still get to her, but she could tell she had become more patient since becoming a mother. _If I was not, I would lose my mind with these little ones running around while I try to rule a kingdom._

“We are ready,” Daenerys came forward with her white dress with a silver dragon necklace little Naerys played with. The little princess was now over a year old, but still liked to be held. Daenerys noticed her daughter seemed to love playing with her jewelry more than anything else.

Rhaenys stopped to look around their solar and thought back on the past two years spent here. She thought of the stressful times that came with ruling this old city and the good times where they witnessed the fruits of their labor. There were no longer slaves in Meereen, never to return for as long as House Targaryen ruled. She recollected the memories of raising her babes here and watching them grow. Aegon and Nymeria were just beginning to wreak havoc around the pyramid and now they would have to bid it farewell.

Finally, Rhaenys focused on the love she built here for Jon. She had loved him her entire life as a brother, but it became more in Astapor and grew to what it was now in Meereen. Rhaenys could not picture a life without him and was grateful she did not find another after losing Egg. _This was home for a time._

After making the long trek down the pyramid that stood imposingly over the entire city, Rhaenys walked over to the wheelhouse waiting for her with Daenys in her arms and Valarr in her mother’s. Her oldest walked to the wheelhouse themselves, marching right past Ser Oswell who looked around for any potential threats. Rhaenys climbed in to join her eldest children with her mother right behind her. Two maids quickly followed with her youngest babes fast asleep.

Opening up the window next to her, she saw Jon ride past atop his horse with Davos Seaworth and Willas Tyrell right behind him. Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur flanked their King’s sides, ready to protect him at all costs. Right under her stood her loyal direwolf, Shadow, eager to leave this climate that was not forgiving to the wolf.

They did not get more than three hundred feet from the pyramid before she began to see people lining the streets, hanging out windows, and sitting atop the buildings along their path seeing them off. Rhaenys saw former slaves crying and waving to them. She felt even more terrible once the people yelled Mhysa and begged for them to stay. _They fear what may happen in our absence. Daario Naharis and his men better not let us down, or dragons will return with fire and blood._

“Meereen will be standing when we are gone,” her mother said from her seat across from her own. “You cannot stay here forever.”

“I know, but it does not mean I cannot worry for my people. They fear for their future and what it looks like without dragons in the city to keep the peace,” she said, readjusting Daenys in her arms so she could wave to the crowds.

“Look Egg! Look!” Nymeria climbed into her lap, pointing at the masses lining the streets. Aegon made his way into her mother’s lap, to get a view outside the wheelhouse. It made her happy to see her son and daughter excited to see their people and not be scared of the attention they would receive for the rest of their lives.

“Wave to them Nymeria,” she encouraged her daughter, who beamed with a smile and stuck her small little arms out for the smallfolk to see. It seemed her little princess easily won over the people’s love as they screamed louder at the sight of Nymeria.

They did not take the most direct route to the harbor at Daenerys’ insistence. She thought they owed it to Meereen to allow as many as possible to see them before their departure. Rhaenys could not disagree and knew they could keep the admiration of their people through such displays.

It must have been near two hours until they reached the docks and stepped out of their wheelhouse. Rhaenys kept a watchful eye over her children as they walked toward their ship, _The Sea Dragon_. The ship was newly built and the largest in their fleet. It was a gift from Lord Monford Velaryon who had it sailed to Meereen four moons ago. It was built for a King and held enough rooms below deck to hold their large family and all their advisors.

“Ship!” Aegon pointed to _The Sea Dragon_ , pulling at her skirt hoping to get her attention.

“Yes, we are sailing on the ship my son,” she replied, smiling at how happy her boy was to learn they would set sail across the seas. “Now go, run along and follow Shadow onto the ship.” Aegon did not hesitate to run after her direwolf with Nymeria at his side. Arya and Rhaegar were already aboard, swinging their little swords around, pretending to be Aegon the Conqueror and Queen Visenya.

 

After seeing her youngest settled into their quarters aboard the ship, Rhaenys walked back into the hallway and up the narrow stairs to the deck of the ship. The sun was beginning to set and Aegon and Nymeria were still running around with their siblings. She just shook her head as they were led around by Rhaegar and Arya. Seeing they were not getting out of hand, she turned to the bow of the ship to join Jon, Daenerys, and Visenya.

With the winds blowing around her, she was thankful she decided to braid her hair so it would not get caught up in the sea breeze as easily as it might if she let it hang freely. Leaning into Jon’s left side, she basked in his warmth as the heat from the sun faded. Daenerys’ back was flush against his front while Visenya rested her head against his shoulder looking at the horizon.

“Do you think they know we are coming?” Daenerys asked, breaking the silence.

“Yes. It will be impossible for us to surprise them. Our fleet is too large and our Dothraki will be hard to miss on the road to Volantis,” Jon answered.

“You look worried,” Rhaenys observed, looking at his brooding face. _What is he worried for? We have the ships. We have the men. And we have our dragons._

“Aye. We have the numbers and the advantage, but taking a city is not easy. Volantis has high walls and its noble families will be well protected. In the streets, our Dothraki are not as effective as they are on an open field. The Unsullied and our men from Westeros will win us this battle, along with the dragons, but I pray it does not come to that,” he said.

“Our ally in Volantis should make things easier,” she responded.

“Aye, but I fear we will come to regret the cost,” he answered with a pained face. _I do not fully trust our supposed friend, but she helped Jon and Daenerys before. If she and her fanatics betray us, we will give them the fire they love so much._

“It is not Volantis that worries me. I fear the other free cities will react as Qohor did and strike against us,” Daenerys said. They understood that Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh were against them, but they did not have a hand in the plot to assassinate them in Meereen. _As I see it, we should take them as well. We already hold most of Essos. Why should these slave cities be allowed to continue on?_

“When we are done with Volantis, we shall return to Dragonstone. I do not want us to spend more years mired in conflicts that we can avoid. But if one of them declares war on us, we will take all three. If we leave the others untouched, they will eventually attack,” Jon said. Rhaenys hoped they would make that mistake and give them reason to conquer the rest of Essos. All that would remain would be Braavos and Lorath. Lorath was not worth the effort, but Braavos was something else entirely.

It was two years ago when Rhaenys learned of the Iron Bank backing Tywin Lannister and providing the gold required to keep its hold on Westeros. She wanted to turn the bank into a molten ruin for supporting their enemy, while Daenerys wanted the Braavosi punished for their profits off of the slave trade. _If they continue to support Cersei, I will take all of their gold and see these bankers’ heads removed when our affairs in Westeros are resolved._

“Can we not talk about politics and war? At least until the morrow,” her sister said in frustration on Jon’s other side.

“Aye. You are right my love,” Jon replied before kissing Visenya’s hair, pulling herself closer to him. Rhaenys could only imagine what their lovemaking would be like this night. The past four days were taxing and prevented them from enjoying themselves. _I pray Lord Velaryon built thick walls within this ship. I do not want to keep everyone up all night._

 

 

**Rhaella Targaryen**

Torn from her sleep by the sound of seagulls flying near her bedchamber, Rhaella opened her eyes to find purple skies through her window. Lord Monford was still asleep beside her after spending the past two moons on Driftmark. Doing her best not to disturb him, she gently lifted his protective arm from her side and slid out of her silk sheets. The air was cooler than she preferred as she stood naked as her nameday before a wonderous view of the Narrow Sea. Knowing she could not bear it any longer, she gathered her chemise she discarded the night before from the floor and put it on to protect herself from shivering on her balcony.

The sight of a lover in her bed was something new. She had never known what it was like to be loved. Her brother was a terrible husband and even worse King who brought her no pleasure. Only hurt and dread came from their marriage. _I guess I can thank him for two of my children._

Lord Monford was a persistent man and did not hide his feelings for her. In all her years as a widow, she never shared her bed with a man and did not expect that to change at her age. Rhaella knew she was far more beautiful than the other ladies her age, but she did not desire a new husband. Her time with her children and grandchildren was enough. It was only a year ago when she finally relented and gave Monford a chance to woo her.

The Master of Ships was a proper lover who cared for her and took his time with her. She was surprised he did not rush things. His persistence led her to believe he would expect to bed her after the first dinner they shared by themselves. Instead, he waited two moons, patiently winning her heart and earning her trust. _I do not know if I am in love with him, but I trust him and know he will not dishonor me. I could find many worse lords to share my bed with._

Standing at the edge of her balcony, she watched as several ships set sail for Essos to support her grandson and his invasion of Volantis. The ships were bringing him weapons his Westerosi soldiers may need for the siege that would take place. She did not know the specifics, but trusted Monford and Jonothor Darry to oversee what Jon had requested.

What surprised her was the latest news from Meereen. She had not expected her grandson to name Ser Davos Seaworth Hand to the King. Knowing his respect for Lord Stannis or his bond with Robb Stark, naming the Onion Knight came as a surprise. Her heart felt for Lord Monford when he heard the news. _He never said it, but he hoped to be named Hand. A loyal and honest lord. I do not blame Jon though. Monford knows the sea better than any other. It is best he not get himself stuck wearing that damned pin._

“What troubles you my love?” she heard Monford behind her just as he snaked his arms around her waist to pull her close to him. _My love? Is this how men speak to their ladies when they are alone? I appreciate the flattery, but it is not needed._

“Nothing troubles me. I just could not sleep,” she answered honestly. Cersei Lannister and the state of the realm troubled her, but it had been that way for years now.

“Do you think the rumors are true? Sansa Stark marrying Harrold Arryn?” he asked before kissing the side of her neck.

“I hope so. The poor girl always dreamed of being a lady married to some great lord from the tales told to little girls. After what she has been through, she deserves her lord,” she mused, knowing Sansa Stark was not longer a girl, but a woman. _How could she not? Living as a hostage, under Joffrey’s reign of terror no less. One would have to grow up to endure that._

“Harrold served our King well in the Bay of Dragons from what I heard. He even took a city for House Targaryen. The Vale will do well under his leadership. And if he has married the Stark girl, he will stand with us when the time comes,” Monford said.

“If Cersei has heard the same as we have, then it will only make her more desperate. She has already let those fanatics take up arms in King’s Landing. Has she never read a book?” she scoffed, thinking on the dark history of the Faith Militant. _My family has suffered great losses at the hands of the most devout of the Seven. Our House knows never to trust their lot again._

“If it is true, I wonder why they have not sent a raven from the Eyrie,” Monford wondered.

“Cersei thinks the girl plotted to poison her son. Sansa Stark is likely being cautious, not wanting to let Cersei know of her whereabouts. I cannot blame the girl. That evil bitch will do her best to see a dagger finding its way into the poor girl’s throat,” she said. Rhaella knew they may now have the power to defeat their enemies in a war with Tywin dead, but that would not stop an assassin’s blade or poison.

“I will send an emissary to the Eyrie to confirm what we have heard,” he said. She noticed he struggled with his next words. _What is he going to ask of me?_ “I do not wish to overstep my place, but I must ask it. If you would my love, would you ask our King to give my brother my House’s name?”

“Aurane?” she asked, looking back to see him nod in confirmation. “Of course, he is a good man. If it were up to me, all bastards would be legitimized. It was their fathers who were in the wrong.”

“Thank you, my Lady. My brother is a good man and will serve loyally in the wars to come,” he replied, letting out a deep breath of relief. _Did he think I would say no? Surely, he knows me better than that._

“I will tell my grandson to grant this request. Just so you know, Jon would grant this without a second’s thought. Allyria was not trueborn and she is like a sister to him,” she said, thinking on the close bond her daughter and grandchildren shared with the daughter of the late Ned Stark.

“When these wars are over and the Lannisters are defeated, will you sail with me? I will take you anywhere you wish. The Jade Sea, the Summer Isles, or even Ibben should you wish to know what the Shivering Sea has to offer,” Monford asked.

“I will let you take me on those ships of yours one day, but I will not say when. I have grandchildren I wish to see for the first time and I cannot lie to you. I will find it hard to be parted from them once I lay eyes on them,” she admitted.

“That is quite alright. I understand. I could not imagine what it is like not to have seen them already,” he said. Rhaella found his grandchildren quite pleasant. His oldest son was a good father who raised good children who behaved themselves. _At least they did while visiting Dragonstone._

“Speaking of sailing to far away places, do you think Robb Stark has enough of our ships to retrieve the wildlings from… Where was it again?” she asked, thinking of the raven they had received a sennight ago.

“Hardhomme. A small fishing village, north of Eastwatch by the sea. I doubt their nets catch much. But yes, he should have enough ships. We sent them north with enough men and provisions to fight off an army. They should be able to ferry the thirty thousand still north of the Wall if they do not mind the close quarters,” Monford assured her. _I should think they would take anything to get south, away from the cold and snow._ “But I fear it will all be for naught. If they did not enter the tunnel when they had the chance, why would they do so now?”

“According to Lord Stark, this Mance Rayder said there is no food and the Army of the Dead is coming for them. They will eventually have to leave when the cold, hard truth hits them,” she replied, not knowing if Mance Rayder was right nor how stubborn these people could be.

“Should we send a message to our King? He may wish to know what his cousin plans to do,” he said.

“No. The last thing we need is him or Visenya flying north again, risking their lives. Let them worry about Volantis and the problems that entails,” she said. _I will not stop Robb Stark, but these wildlings had their chance. I will not let Jon be a noble fool again and risk his own life for people that are not his own. If the dead are real, then we should delay confronting them for as long as possible._

“What do you wish to do today?” he asked, finally dispelling talk of politics and war.

“Visit Aegon’s garden to have a lunch and then perhaps walk the beaches. No lords or ladies are visiting. I think we should take advantage of the time we have,” she answered, turning around to see the smile on his face.

“I shall let the maids know of your wishes and have the kitchen prepare a proper meal,” he declared, kissing her brow. Finally releasing her from his grip, the Lord of Driftmark retreated to her bedchamber to gather his clothes and prepare their day.

Rhaella turned back to her view of the Narrow Sea, wondering if her family could finally find peace after these wars. There was peace during most of her son’s reign, but that ended in the worst way she could imagine. _I pray Jon’s rule is more secure and without treacherous lords who have the power to hurt us. I know we will not be betrayed by one of our own again. I will make sure my daughter does not make the same mistakes I did raising Viserys._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the Meereen plot is over. Next chapter is called Red Sky Over Volantis.


	29. Red Sky Over Volantis

**Jon Targaryen**

His men could not row fast enough to the shore some five hundred feet away. The siege of Volantis would begin this day and Jon was eager to get to their dragons who sat perched along the grassy hill just beyond the beach. The sky above was a deep crimson red as the sun was rising for the day. He could make out what looked like Ser Jorah and Rakharo waiting for them with nearly one hundred Dothraki riders. _They probably cannot wait for this fight. Have they ever gone this long without war in their history?_

Every city they had taken since he had left Westeros had been shown mercy and he always tried to refrain from spilling too much blood. Volantis would not receive such restraint. After the attack on his wives during the Great Games and the attempted assassinations of his children, he vowed to see the nobility of Volantis suffer. Jon already disfavored the Volantenes for their practice in the slave trade. The threats against his family made him feel the same hatred toward them he held for House Lannister.

During the journey from Meereen, Varys informed him of the triarchs who led the plot to remove the Targaryens from the Bay of Dragons to reopen the slave trade. He was surprised to find out it was the Elephants and not the Tigers who advocated for the assassination of his children. _Triarchs Doniphos Paenymion and Nyessos Vhassar will die by dragonfire if I am feeling merciful._ The rival political party, the Tigers, also supported the masters of Meereen. Only a family by the name of Maegyr protested against such treachery. _They may be the only nobles I let live in this city._

Reaching the shore, Jon stepped off their boat into the morning tide rushing up the beach. Turning around, he held his hand out to assist his wives. He wanted them far from this fight, back on _The Sea Dragon_ , which anchored just offshore along with one hundred of their ships that were meant to protect his family while the rest sailed toward Volantis six miles to the west.

Each of his wives were with child, but his protests were met with eyes that could kill. All three scorned him for thinking he could keep them from attacking Volantis. He had never seen them as angry as they were when the Volantenes were discussed. He managed to get Visenya to promise to stay on Silverclaw and that felt like a weight off his shoulders. _I do not need her wielding Dark Sister, trying to cut down every slaver she finds while carrying our child._

“Your Graces,” Ser Jorah said, stepping forward with Rakharo. Jon greeted his bloodrider who he had not seen for a long time. “The khalasar has the city surrounded on all sides. Qhono and Kovarro led half the horde across the river to surround the western shores. They await your orders, my King.”

“We are ready to fight for you, Khal Jon,” Rakharo promised in Dothraki.

“The battle will take place today. The Unsullied and our men from Westeros will take the port. From there, they will breach the gate with Daenerys’ aid. Visenya will fly to the west and support our men attacking across the river. Rhaenys and I will attack the eastern walls until one of the gates fall and the khalasar gets in. I want no slaves harmed, is that clear?” he asked.

“We follow you. The khalasar will fight and kill your enemies. No slaves will die by our hand,” Rakharo acknowledged the order. Jon was still nervous about some of their men getting caught up in the red mist that filled every man’s senses in the heat of battle.

“Good. When you breach the city, make for the black walls in the eastern side of Volantis. That is where our enemies reside. Kill anyone who opposes you and take all who live behind the black walls prisoner. We will deal with them once the city is ours,” Daenerys added. He could tell she was eager to lead their Dothraki into battle and get revenge for what happened in Meereen.

“Your Grace, taking this city will be tough and many men will die. We do not know what they have waiting for us. Perhaps it is best if you let your armies…,” Ser Jorah said before being cut off.

“I will do no such thing, Ser Jorah,” she stopped him, holding up her hand to warn him not to speak further. “We will take what they hold dear and see everyone of these slavers meet their end.”

“Do they have any sellsword companies fighting for them?” he enquired, hoping Ser Jorah had learned something Varys may have missed.

“Some, your Grace. None of note. There are rumors of the Golden Company entering the service of Braavos. Most of the men standing along the walls of Volantis are slave soldiers, less known sellswords, and some freemen,” Ser Jorah answered.

“Ser Jorah, Rakharo. Let our men know, if they see followers of the Lord of Light fighting in the streets, do not attack them unless they turn on us. Lady Kinvara should assist our efforts if she is truly a friend to House Targaryen. If any of them get out of hand, looting or raping, stop them,” he ordered, earning nods of understanding from them both. “Now go, prepare the khalasar for battle. You will know when to begin the attack.”

Jorah and their Dothraki made for the horses to ride off to the east toward the walls of Volantis. Looking to his Queens to see if they were ready, he knew they were prepared to see this through. He prayed they would stay safe and fly high for much of the battle. _I would not know what to do if I lost one of them._

“Stay safe my loves,” he said, leaning down to seal his lips with each of theirs before they walked off to their respective dragons who appeared to miss their presence. It was the longest he had gone without them since they were hatched. He was no maester, but Jon concluded the dragons needed their company to keep them from burning down every man they came across.

Sonar and Stormfyre screeched as he strode past them toward Vermithrex. He made sure to give each dragon his attention, petting their snouts before moving toward his mount. Vermithrex was as calm as Ghost, but held a look in his eyes that told Jon the dragon was ready to burn Volantis to the ground.

“Are you ready for this?” he asked his dragon in Valyrian while running his hand over its dark grey scales. Vermithrex just purred before turning to let out a scream towards the west. “Try to keep me from getting myself killed today. My wives would never forgive me and my mother will unleash her wrath upon you.”

As he had done many times before, Jon climbed up his dragon’s shoulder and seated himself as easily as he may sit upon a horse. Before he could give the command, Vermithrex took to the sky with Stormfyre and Sonar close behind. Visenya was already off to the south, swinging past their fleet toward the western half of Volantis on the other side of the river. Daenerys followed the coast before turning toward their ships to wait for their attack upon the port.

To his right, Jon spotted Rhaenys atop Myrax with Moonlight and Kios flanking her sides. Some part of him feared she would let her temper get the best of her and attack the city on her own without a second’s thought. It was a relief to know she would refrain from such risks and follow their plan of attack.

Their flight was a short one and Jon found their khalasar mounted on their horses, ready to charge the gates of Volantis and kill their enemies. It was the largest force he had ever seen. The horde appeared vast from the ground and it was even more fearsome from the sky. Over one hundred thousand riders must have been down below, thirsty for battle.

Knowing they gave Ser Jorah enough time to let the khalasar know the battle would begin at once, Jon let Vermithrex know it was time to take the gate. Flying over the khalasar, his dragon let out the loudest roar he had ever heard, which encouraged their Dothraki to unleash their battle screams below.

Next to him, Rhaenys’ dragons roared in response and the horde was charging toward the walls of the city without fear. _The Dothraki lacked fear without dragons. What can be said of their lack of fear now that they follow us?_

Closing the distance to the walls below, Jon began his descent toward the gate and landed just before it. The men manning the walls must have thought they had a chance to cut him down with arrows for the briefest of moments. They were mistaken, for Sonar and Stormfyre unleashed their dragonfire upon the walls to his left while Rhaenys brought Myrax down to burn the men above the gate. Her other two dragons killed anyone brave enough to man the walls to his right.

“Dracarys!” he yelled so Vermithrex could hear over the screams of dying men. His dragon unleashed a wave of dragonfire upon the strong gates of Volantis. Harrenhal was a once great castle that many thought could withstand the power of dragons, but were proven wrong by his ancestor. The gates of Volantis did not stand a chance. In mere seconds, the gate was blown away and open for his khalasar charging behind him.

Seeing the Dothraki charging toward the gate, he urged Vermithrex to take to the sky again and let their army through. His powerful dragon’s wings lifted them one hundred feet above the ground in an instant to watch their men pour through the gates with their arakhs raised to cut down any man fool enough to challenge them.

Pushing higher into the air, he finally found Rhaenys attacking another gate and Jon flew as quick as he could to assist her so she would remove herself from harm’s way. Duplicating their previous assault, he brought Vermithrex down to destroy this gate. This time, there were none left to defend it from attack.

Now above the city, Jon watched thousands of their riders navigating their way through the streets toward the black stone walls that held the nobility of Volantis. To the south, he could see smoke from the walls along the port that was surrounded by their fleet. _Daenerys must have already cleared the way for Grey Worm and the Unsullied._ Smoke also rose from the West as he made out what appeared to be Visenya flying circles over the city, looking for an enemy to bathe in dragonfire.

Volantis was too hot and the air too humid for his liking, but he could not deny the city looked impressive from the sky. It was the largest city he had ever seen, filled with temples, towers, vast walls, and great palaces within the inner black walls in the eastern side of the city. _How many slaves live here? It is said there are five for every freeman._

As Rhaenys began to fly beside him, he noticed Volantenes rushing toward the black walls either fleeing the Dothraki or storming the gates protecting the nobles who enslaved thousands. His eyes finally caught what looked like men in red robes leading the people forward. _Kinvara is proving herself a useful ally for now._

There were countless soldiers in position along the black walls and he knew what must be done. Angling for an attack, Vermithrex banked to the right and dove toward the defenseless soldiers who did not stand a chance against dragons. Jon led his dragons along the wall in one direction while Rhaenys unleashed Myrax in the other. In the distance, he could see Daenerys and Visenya leaving a trail of flames along the walls. _No man will live defending these walls._

As soon as he reached Visenya flying Silverclaw, he turned his dragon around to destroy the gate nearest their khalasar making their way through the city. Much like the gates on the outer walls, the one protecting the nobility was annihilated by dragonfire. What was different was the thousands cheering him on as his dragon unleashed his strength.

Before the followers of the Lord of Light could storm the palaces of the noble families, the Dothraki rode down the street at a fast enough pace that the Volantenes opened the path for them to attack first. Once again in the sky, he watched as their army cut down the men brave enough to face them in the streets. _The cowards who plotted to harm my family are likely hiding in their palaces, making slaves fight for them._

Seeing that the fighting was now too close for Vermithrex to be of any use without burning his own men, Jon landed in an open court behind the black walls. Sliding off his dragon, he unsheathed Longclaw and followed his Dothraki toward a group of a hundred men charging at them.

The Volantene soldiers were poorly armored and were no match for the Dothraki. He cut down his first two men with ease. They had never been in a battle. That much was apparent. Jon did not care as he relentlessly struck man after man, opening their throats, hacking off limbs, and driving his Valyrian steel through several hearts.

It did not take long for him to find himself covered in blood. His face was soaked and he did his best to wipe it from his face so his vision would not be hampered. Dozens of men must have met their end by Longclaw before the khalasar truly filled into this section of the city. Each time he found a man to fight, they were run down by a Dothraki rider. It was now chaos in their favor.

Stopping to catch his breath, he looked to the sky to find his Queens circling above, likely worried what he was doing on the ground. _I will never hear the end of this for quite a while._ Returning his attention to the events around him, Jon realized their Dothraki were beginning to secure the palaces around them. _Ser Jorah must have told them to secure the treasures held inside. The Dothraki also love to take what belongs to other men._

After resting long enough, he surprisingly caught sight of Kinvara approaching with her followers clad in red. With them came a man held at knifepoint who looked no older than fifty, dressed in the silks one would expect from a Volantene noble. Jon wondered which of them this must be.

“A gift, King Jon, from the Lord of Light,” she gestured toward the man. “Nyessos Vhassar. He, more than any, has seen to our Lord’s followers’ suffering. He plotted to kill the prince and princesses who were promised and our Lord has rewarded him for his lack of faith,” she declared in the same chilling voice he remembered from Qohor.

Not even thinking to respond as rage consumed him, he walked toward the man and began to pummel his face with his gloved fists. Each fist landed a blow and Jon did not tire as blood covered the Triarch’s face. His bones were breaking, but he did not stop. _This coward wanted my wives dead! He sent men to my children’s rooms! He wanted my mother slaughtered!_

It was not until his punches weakened that he realized the man underneath him laid lifeless on the ground with an unrecognizable face beaten to a pulp. Jon looked up to see his Dothraki staring in disbelief at what he had done to the man. They were not appalled by the killing for they had done far worse. Jon knew they did not expect it from him. He ordered them to change their ways and restrain themselves. Here, he killed a man who wronged his family, but was a prisoner who did not see a trial. _I know it was wrong but I do not care._

 

Hours passed by before the dust finally settled and the fighting within Volantis ceased. Smoke filled the air, adding to the smell of death. After securing the walled off area reserved for the noble families, Jon rode out with Rakharo to assist in any fighting that was taking place elsewhere. Wherever they went, they found themselves late to the battle. The Dothraki moved quickly through the city, killing any who opposed them with ease.

Jon could not deny that it helped, such large numbers of slaves followed the Lord of Light and revolted against their masters on Kinvara’s orders. Corpses littered the streets and homes of the rich who benefited from the enslavement of thousands in this city. _I wonder why they have never revolted before? They have always had the numbers to do so._

As he made his way through Volantis, the Temple of the Lord of Light was a grand structure that was hard to miss. Fanatics dressed in red surrounded the temple with spears, swords, clubs, axes, and various other poorly made weapons. Jon thought the Sept of Baelor was an impressive sight. The temple built for the fire god was far larger. _Keeping these people in line could come to be our greatest struggle in Essos. I will not make the same mistakes as Aenys, but I will not become Maegor._

What caught his eye outside the temple was the sight of Kinvara’s followers carrying out lifeless bodies from the temple. He halted his horse and his Dothraki stayed at his side to watch the scene before them. From what he gathered listening the cries of the people, they had killed the high priest, named Benerro, as well as his followers. _Kinvara is making her move against a rival._

Not wanting to be caught up in an internal religious struggle more than he already had, Jon rode off with his men toward the palaces behind the black walls once he saw the dragons flying circles in the distance. It appeared they were moving slowly from the port to the area for the nobles within the city. _My family has entered the city._

Jon pulled on the reins of his destrier and led his riders back to where they had started. People lined the streets outside the doors and windows of homes, staring as they rode past. He observed many of the people had tattoos on their faces to mark what type of slave they were. _That will never happen again as long as I breathe and House Targaryen rules this city._

Riding through the gate under the black wall, Jon passed their men hauling away corpses to be burned to prevent disease from spreading across the city. Every palace and temple they passed was being emptied of coin and valuables. It was expected, but seeing the amount of wealth the Dothraki and Unsullied gathered amazed him. _Volantis will provide us more gold than any of the cities we have previously taken, even Qarth._

In the middle of the great square with five grand fountains, Jon saw his Queens dismounting their dragons with Unsullied standing guard around them. Seeing all three discussing something together, he slid off his saddle and rushed over to their side to make sure they were unhurt.

“Please tell me you are unharmed,” he said, running his hands over each of them, making sure there was no blood or wounds on them.

“We are fine. The Volantenes are poor fighters,” Rhaenys said to his relief before Daenerys hit him in the chest.

“What was that for?” he asked, knowing he was about to face her wrath.

“Jon, you know exactly what that was for. Do not think about doing that again. If I see you fighting on the ground again and not riding Vermithrex, I will have Drogon burn you alive,” she threatened with a glare that made him quiver where he stood.

“As my Queen commands,” he replied with a smile before leaning down to capture her lips he loved so much. He did not want to get her dirty from the blood and soot covering his face, but her beauty overwhelmed him in the moment.

“Jon, the Lady Melisandre is walking this way,” Visenya said, causing him to break apart from Daenerys to see what this was now about. Melisandre was in her typical red dress with a bright ruby within a choker around her neck, much like the one worn by Kinvara walking beside her.

“My King. My Queens. Volantis is yours,” Melisandre said without a curtsy. He did not mind, but was not used to it since everyone else they ever came across followed the customs of court.

“Do you believe me now, Daenerys Stormborn? From the fires, you were reborn. You have purified and burned the nonbelievers by the thousands. All four of you were chosen by our Lord to carry out his will. The sins of this city have been washed away. The Prince and Princesses who were promised will lead the people through the darkness in the great war to come,” Kinvara said in the same unnerving voice he heard earlier and Daenerys heard in Qohor.

“We did not come here to burn nonbelievers. We came here to fight injustice with justice,” Daenerys responded with her head tilted high, not showing any sign of wariness in Kinvara’s presence. _We also came here for revenge._

“And our Lord shares in your belief of justice. I gave our King one of the men who plotted the murder of the little princes and princesses,” Kinvara said, causing each of his wives to look at him for answers. “I bring another Triarch, Malaquo Maegyr, who has escaped our Lord’s judgement until now.”

Several of the men dresses in red robes emerged from the crowd with a man in his fifties, chained and beaten. Jon saw a cut above his eye and his jaw bruised. He was surprised the man was not killed in the fighting. He was the leader of the Tiger party and would surely lead Volantis in war. _Varys said he did not want to go through with the plot in Meereen. Do I show this man mercy and find a potential ally? We cannot kill all of the nobility, even if we wanted. Some had already left the city._

Jon unsheathed Longclaw, resting the point of his Valyrian steel sword on the ground with both his hands around the grip. “What would you do if you were standing where I stand and I were kneeling where you are now? Would you show me mercy? Let me live after nearly losing all you hold dear?” he asked the defeated man before him in High Valyrian.

“No,” was all Malaquo said in their mother tongue as he shook his head.

“I thought not,” he replied, knowing he should not allow one of the Triarchs to live. The slaves of Volantis had helped them take the city. Keeping around one of the most powerful of the noble families would bring about unrest.

Just as he began to lift Longclaw, ready to remove his head without bothering with all of his titles, he heard a woman plead for mercy from the crowd. “Don’t! Please, do not kill him. He is my father!” he heard the woman speak in the common tongue in a Volantene accent.

Turning to his right, he saw a beautiful woman who must have been near his own age. She was thin, with olive skin and black hair that was typical of the Volantenes. It was something in her eyes that prevented him from following through with the execution.

“Your father is one of the Triarchs of this city, yes? What did he do to stop the men who plotted the murder of innocent children? My children are just babes. They have never harmed anyone. Why should your father receive our mercy?” Rhaenys asked with a hint of anger in her tone. _I feared she would get carried away with the burning of this city._

“My father urged the others to not follow through with their plans. One man, one family cannot stand against the nobility of Volantis. I know you wish to end slavery in this city. Let my father live and our House will see it done. I cannot excuse our past. I left this city years ago because of it. Show my father mercy as I have seen you cousin, Lord Stark give to his enemies,” the Volantene woman said.

“You expect us to believe you know our cousin?” Visenya asked with disbelief written across her face.

“I did not know him well, but we met in the Riverlands. I healed the wounded on the battlefields with your Silent Sisters. Ask Lord Stark next time you see him of Talisa Maegyr. He allowed me to heal wounded Lannister soldiers and saw to it they were cared for. I heard him speak once of his cousin who was a King. If you are the man he spoke of, I hope you find it in your heart to spare a daughter from seeing her father killed and give a family a chance to right its wrongs,” Talisa Maegyr requested with the look of an honest lady. _There is no lying in her eyes._

“Release him from his chains,” he commanded in Valyrian to the men who had brought the head of House Maegyr before him. They did not move on his orders, instead looking to Kinvara.

“Our Lord…,” Kinvara began to speak before being stopped by Daenerys.

“Your lord, not ours. We thank you for your aid, but remember your place Lady Kinvara. The King of Volantis just gave these men an order. You would do well to remind them who rules this city and sees when justice is done. Your followers are free to worship any god they wish, but they will follow our laws or meet the same fate as the masters they put to the sword this day,” Daenerys told Kinvara in her queenly tone. Lady Melisandre seemed pleased at them keeping Kinvara in check. _Are they rivals? Does Melisandre feign a split between them to draw us in? I cannot say._

Their Unsullied stepped forward slightly, ready for a fight until Kinvara nodded to the men holding Malaquo Maegyr. When the former Triarch was unchained and brought to his feet, his daughter rushed to hug him like any daughter would who thought she almost lost her father. _Most of Volantis’ nobles are dead. I can live with House Maegyr surviving if it can help bring peace to a city we must rule._

“Lady Talisa, see to it your father is healed and rested. I should like to speak with you both on the morrow about putting this city back together. Triarchs will never rule Volantis again as long as House Targaryen stands. I expect noble, freeman, and former slave alike to help keep the peace and see this city prosper. Meereen learned what happens to those who defy us. I pray Volantis does not do the same,” he told the lady trying to support the weight of her hobbling father.

“Yes, my King,” she slightly bowed her head, ready to leave the courtyard for wherever their palace may lie.

“Lady Talisa, if you need anything for your father’s recovery, just ask one of the Unsullied or Targaryen guards. They will see he gets the help he may need,” he told her. “Grey Worm, send fifty of your men to guard House Maegyr. They are under our protection.”

“Yes, my King,” Grey Worm answered, walking over to a group of Unsullied to spread his orders.

Kinvara began to turnaround with her followers to leave, accepting for the time they could do nothing to stop the will of a King and his Queens. The priestess was stopped in her tracks by Rhaenys’ voice. “Lady Kinvara, make sure to tell your people when a King or Queen gives them an order, they should follow it. I expect not to see anymore men looking to you for approval when we tell them to do something.”

“Yes, your Grace,” Lady Kinvara answered. _If she plans to betray us, she and her followers will get acquainted with the flames they love so much._

“My King, I have an urgent matter to discuss with you. A vision I saw in the flames,” Melisandre said after seeing Kinvara had disappeared from sight.

“Regarding Volantis?” he asked.

“No, my King, the North. Beyond the Wall, the dead march and with them darkness. Lord Stark sails for Hardhomme with Mance Rayder to retrieve the remaining wildlings,” Melisandre answered. She looked around, before continuing, “Only you can save them. You are the lord’s chosen.”

“Robb can handle this on his own. You do not need to fly across the world to save people who refused to be saved already,” Rhaenys protested the idea. He could see by the look in her eyes she would strangle him if he flew off to aid Robb’s efforts.

“The night is dark and full of terrors Queen Rhaenys. If the King does not fly to the North, all who are north of the Wall will perish. Lord Stark, Mance Rayder, the wildlings, all of them,” Melisandre said. _I do not believe in visions in the flames nor this Lord of Light. Davos does not believe either, but he said he has seen Melisandre perform unbelievable things. Do I believe in this? How could I risk letting Robb die? He would fight to help me if he were in my place._

“On the morrow, I will fly north. If Robb needs my help, I cannot turn my back on him,” he said, seeing Rhaenys fume at his decision while Daenerys just stared into his eyes. They knew how to communicate with each other without speaking and she was letting him know he needed to be careful.

“I will go with you,” VIsenya declared next to him without any hesitation.

“You will not. You will stay here and rule Volantis. If the Army of the Dead arrive, I do not want you there in your condition. I cannot believe I let you ride upon Silverclaw for this battle. You will not fly all the way to Hardhomme this far along,” he told her, placing a hand on her growing stomach.

“But I can…,” she tried to get out until he placed two fingers gently upon her lips.

“No, this is for me and me alone. I will never give you commands. You are my Queen. But when it comes to your safety and that of our children, I will. Do this for me. Please,” he said, hoping he would not have to resort to drastic measures. _I do not want to bar her to her chambers with Ser Arthur standing guard, making sure she does not leave._

 

 

**Visenya Targaryen**

“Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh?” she asked Varys, sitting at their small council table in their new palace.

“And Braavos, your Grace. The Iron Bank had the most to lose from House Targaryen taking Slaver’s Bay,” their spymaster informed them. “It was their coin that funded most of the attack on Meereen.”

“The Bay of Dragons, Lord Varys,” Daenerys reminded him. _And the Braavosi claim to detest slavery. I will see them burn after they are forced to watch us take their gold._

“Yes, your Grace,” Varys apologized.

“We do not have the time to deal with Braavos. We will take Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh to secure the lands between here and Pentos. From there, we will sail for Dragonstone. The Iron Bank will answer for their actions after we have taken back Westeros and deal with the threat beyond the Wall,” Jon declared in the chair next to hers. _I hope Sam, the Night’s Watch, and the free folk are wrong. An army of dead men? White Walkers? Those are the stories I laughed at in my books. Old Nan did not even truly believe them, did she? No, they are not mad. Too many have confirmed what Sam saw beyond the Wall._

“Ser Jorah, what of the violence in the streets?” Daenerys asked the knight from Bear Island.

“The streets have calmed your Grace. The Unsullied patrol the streets within the black walls and the Dothraki are keeping the peace outside them. It seems Lady Kinvara and Lady Melisandre are keeping their followers from killing the rest of the Volantenes,” Jorah answered.

“Grey Worm, have our men begin to move the gold from the palaces to our ships on the morrow. Have them begin to search for any hidden vaults within the palaces,” Jon ordered, turning to the commander of their Unsullied, sitting next to Missandei. _They have gotten closer. I am nervous to ask how they do it. If they do it?_

“Missandei, see to it that the poor in this city are fed. Anything you need, come to me,” she told their advisor and friend. Visenya did not need to remind Missandei for they already discussed her responsibilities before arriving in Volantis.

“Yes, my Queen. The larders here are full, but we may need to use some of our own stores if trade along the Rhoyne is disrupted,” Missandei cautioned them.

“Rakharo, find Qhono and Kovarro. Let them know the khalasar should be ready to ride in fifteen days. You will lead the khalasar along the Rhoyne and take the lands along the river. I do not want the people harmed or their coin taken. Make sure Volon Therys, Valysar, and Selhorys bend the knee and continue to send food downriver. If they resist, take their cities. After the first moon of the new year, I want the khalasar surrounding Myr,” Jon ordered their bloodrider in Dothraki.

“Yes, Khal Jon,” Rakharo answered while standing from his seat to go find their other bloodriders. _They better keep the horde in line. I want no massacres under our rule. We have let them take three cities already. They will find plenty of fighting when we face the Lannisters in Westeros._

“Your Grace, I am not familiar with the Dothraki, but I must caution against allowing them to take more cities in your name without you being there to lead them. You put swords in men’s hands and send them to conquer cities, they will eventually take it too far,” Lord Davos warned Jon.

“You are right Lord Davos, but the Dothraki will do as we command or face the consequences. They know better than most we will not tolerate the rape and murder of innocents,” Jon countered. _After seeing the khals and bloodriders burn in Vaes Dothrak, they should know. I wish I could have been there to see the dragons born. To see the Dothraki bend the knee to our House and vow to follow us wherever we choose to lead them._

“Your Graces, perhaps it is time we discuss Westeros. If the stories are to be believed, my sister is doing her best to set the lords of Westeros against her. House Martell is the only great house supporting them. And now that Lady Sansa and Lord Harrold are wed, the Vale will fall in line. Perhaps we should land in Dorne first and…,” Tyrion tried to propose his plans before her sister cut him off.

“Perhaps you do not want to hurt your family after all. The first house you want us to strike is House Martell? My uncle died for you. Now you want to shed more of my kin’s blood?” Rhaenys said in anger. _Please do not do something rash Sister._

“Prince Doran did not support you when you sought his aid. Why do you care what happens to him?” Tyrion asked.

“I do not care for my uncle. He is dead to me. But I will not invade Dorne and wage war against those who are still loyal to me. We can take Dorne without any bloodshed. My cousin Arianne is loyal to me. She will not accept Doran’s alliance with your family,” Rhaenys said.

“She married Joffrey,” Tyrion responded.

“Against her will. You think yourself a clever man Lord Tyrion, but I know my cousin. You will see,” her sister promised the Imp. _If he keeps fighting with her in these meetings, Daenerys will no longer be able to protect him._

“Enough!” Jon stopped both from arguing. “We can discuss Westeros when the time comes. It is not now. We still have battles to fight in Essos before we can focus on taking back the Iron Throne. Lord Tyrion, Lord Varys, see to it the city is secured and there are no plots for unrest.” Visenya knew Jon just wanted Tyrion gone before their sister had him killed by Shadow, standing guard in the corner of the room.

Just as Varys and Tyrion left the room, one of their guards walked in. “Your Graces, Lady Talisa Maegyr asks for your audience,” the soldier in black armor informed them.

“See her in,” she told the soldier.

Escorted in by two of their household guard at her side, Talisa Maegyr stood before them. Visenya noticed the woman did not wear an intricate dress or any jewels that would give away the great wealth her family possessed. _Why did a girl born to wealth and an old family of prominence in Volantis cross the Narrow Sea to heal the wounded in a war in the Riverlands?_

“Lady Talisa, what brings you here before us?” Daenerys asked after the woman curtsied before them.

“I come to give you a gift. Something that I hope will show my family’s goodwill toward House Targaryen,” Talisa proclaimed.

“Where is this gift?” she asked Talisa, who carried nothing with her.

“In this palace your Grace. The vault in the dungeons below,” the Volantene beauty answered.

“Yes, our men are emptying the vault and preparing to move its contents to our ships,” Rhaenys said, looking ready to be done with their meetings. It had been a long day and they were all ready to retire to their chambers.

“It is not the gold I wish to tell you of. There is something you will find more valuable than all the gold in Volantis if you allow me to show you,” Talisa promised.

“Fine, show us this great gift,” Daenerys ordered with a hint of sarcasm. _What could possibly be more valuable than all of the gold in Volantis? Was I wrong? Is Talisa Maegyr mad?_

Leaving the room where they held their council meeting, they followed Talisa Maegyr through the halls of the palace, and down the stairs leading to the vault three levels below the ground. Along the way, they passed their soldiers carrying crates of gold and riches from the vault.

Upon reaching the vault, Visenya was amazed to see how much wealth the family previously residing in the palace held. They were not as wealthy as her own family, but it was impressive considering they were not kings or queens of Volantis. Even with their men coming in and out, carrying the contents of the vault with them, it still looked full.

As they entered, their men stepped out of their way to give them privacy. Visenya found her sister next to her eyeing the gold jewelry on one of the shelves to their left. Jon and Daenerys continued to follow Talisa further into the brazier-lit vault with Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur close behind. “Come Sister, let us see what this is all about,” she pulled on Rhaenys’ arm so they would not miss what could be discovered.

“When I was little, the youngest boy of the family who called this palace home favored me. He would bring me gifts, call me his princess, and promise me the world. One time, he snuck me down here and showed me one of their great possessions,” Talisa said, moving towards to back corner of the vault. There, Visenya watched Talisa reach down to unlatch a wooden trunk that looked rather unremarkable amongst the other contents around them.

“It was here he showed me this Valyrian steel sword. I rolled my eyes when he first showed it to me, until I heard its story. This blade was not just any Valyrian sword. It was the sword wielded by Aegon the Conqueror and the Kings of House Targaryen. It belongs to you, your Grace, and your children after you,” Talisa said, turning around with a sword sheathed in its scabbard.

Jon reached for the sword, taking it out of Talisa’s hands. Once she laid eyes on the pommel, Visenya knew instantly the sword was Blackfyre, lost to them after Aegor Rivers took the blade with him to Essos after several failed Blackfyre rebellions. The ruby pommel and dragon crossguards were just as they appeared in the paintings in the Red Keep and Dragonstone.

The steel was unmistakably Valyrian when Jon unsheathed the blade. It looked marvelous as the flamelight flickered across the rippled steel. Visenya thought the sword would never be returned to their family. _Now we have Dark Sister and Blackfyre. We have dragons. But neither make up for the loss of my father or brother._

Beaming with pride at Jon who was now her King, holding the sword that belonged to their House, Visenya moved to his side with a hand on his back. He looked down at her with his mouth agape in awe of what he held. “Lady Talisa, thank you for telling us of Blackfyre. I hope we can call House Maegyr friends to the crown for years to come,” Jon finally let out.

“I cannot believe it,” Daenerys said after Talisa left them to admire the sword.

“I can. We have dragons and Visenya has Dark Sister. We were meant to have them. We are meant to take back Westeros and the Iron Throne,” Rhaenys declared, standing on her toes to capture Jon’s lips now that they were alone.

 

“I will leave in the morning,” Jon said as they laid together in their bed, as naked as their first nameday. She loved it when he traced his hand over her growing stomach. She felt protected and loved. Visenya never wanted to be a defenseless maid. It was why she trained so hard with Jon and learned to wield a bow from her mother. But if she was honest, she craved his protective acts.

“Let me come with you,” she pleaded, pulling herself closer against his side. Her hand roamed his hard muscles, worshipping his sweat covered body she loved to please so much.

“Don’t be silly, look at you. You are in no condition to fly north and deal with what is beyond the Wall. Do this for me, my love,” he told her with his piercing gaze into her eyes.

“Fine, I will do it for you, but promise me you will be safe. Return to me. Return to us,” she said as she placed her hand over the one he held over her stomach. Seeing him smile, Visenya tilted her head to taste his lips. Knowing he could be gone for weeks, she savored the moment, gently tracing her tongue along his lips and his own tongue. Backing away, she continued, “And be quick about it. Dany and Rhae will not let you go unpunished if you are gone more than a fortnight.”

“I will do my best,” Jon promised her. Daenerys and Rhaenys were already asleep on the other side of the bed, snuggled together with Daenerys flush against Jon’s left. He had thoroughly worn them out and Visenya was spent herself. The events of the day and Jon’s impending departure kept her awake and restless.

“I cannot wait to see you on the throne with Blackfyre on your hip. I might have to order everyone to leave the throne room and reward my King for his accomplishments. I have dreamed of you taking me on the Iron Throne,” she admitted. Feeling his cock harden in her hand upon her confession, she slowly stroked it knowing what she was doing to him.

“You would, would you?” he said with a laugh, moving a hand to her breast. Slowly kneading her breast, she found herself moving her hips against his side. Her cunt was ready for him again and she could not relieve the tension inside her without his help.

Coaxing him into making love to her again, Visenya rolled onto her back, spreading her legs for him. As he stared at her open legs begging for his entrance, she saw the desire burning in his eyes. Jon moved over on the bed, doing his best not to wake Daenerys or Rhaenys. He was not so gentle as he pushed her thighs further apart and pulled her down to sheath his cock with her wet folds. _He knows I love this._

Maybe she did not know any better, but Visenya would have sworn Jon was perfect for her. He was her loving and protective brother, who supported whatever she did. Now as her King, he was the perfect loving father to their children, a great leader who encouraged her to have a voice at court, and made love to her like no other husband did in this world. _Every night, he looks at me like it is the first time he is seeing all of me._

Jon was thrusting into her with all his strength as she tried to stifle her moans and cries. Unable to completely control herself, she let out a few words in Valyrian. It sent him over the edge as he pushed into her as fast and hard as he could. Now she found herself crying his name as she began to lose her breath while her heart beat out of her chest.

When her walls tightened around his cock and her body lost control of itself, she arched her back while digging her nails into his skin. Jon’s movements slowed as she felt him twitch inside her, but did not feel him spill inside her. _He already gave us enough earlier this night._

Jon fell back to where he laid before and Visenya looked over after collecting herself to find Daenerys half awake, shaking her head. “You said you were done for the night,” Daenerys teased.

“I was. Visenya wanted more and I could not refuse,” Jon let out under heavy breaths.

“I’ll be sure to remember that next time,” Rhaenys said behind Daenerys.

Jon leant over to kiss Daenerys and Rhaenys goodnight before laying back where he was. Not letting go of him until he needed to leave, Visenya slid into his side again, desperate for his warmth as she found her sleep. _Return to us Jon. We love you._

 

 

**Jon Targaryen**

The North was just as cold as when he left it six moons ago. From his vantage point in the sky above Storrold’s Point, Jon’s eyes scanned the lands below looking for any signs of the free folk. He was not familiar with the lands beyond the Wall. The maps he looked at before his journey gave him an idea of where the fishing village could be found, but there were no identifiable reference points for him to determine his location.

Knowing he could not fly directly there, Jon flew Vermithrex along the coastline past Eastwatch. It had not been long since they first journeyed to Westeros and he found his dragon was already much more comfortable travelling such a distance. His dragon still disliked the cold, harsh winds, but did not resist flying away from the warmth of Essos.

Just when he began to doubt the accuracy of the maps he examined before leaving Volantis, he glimpsed the sight of black sails in the distance, hugging the coast. _That must be Robb._ As Vermithrex closed the distance, Jon was able to make out the sigil of his House along with a few ships carrying the sigils of Houses Stark and Manderly. The ships were already anchoring across from the village he had been looking for.

Hardhomme looked like a grim place to live. All of the ground was covered in snow or ice. There was not a tree within sight of the village surrounded by high cliffs. From what he could see, there were few actual buildings there. It mostly consisted of tents within the wooden walls and outside them.

Seeing his sailors rowing ashore in their small boats, Jon pushed Vermithrex to land at a small clearing near the shore. It was a relief to see the nearest free folk backing away at the sight of his dragon. He did not want Vermithrex to perceive them as a threat and burn them. _They already distrust us. Burning them will only strengthen their resolve to stay beyond the Wall._

Dismounting his dragon, Jon wandered over to the shore to see Robb climbing out of his boat with Mance Rayder, Tormund Giantsbane, and Edd Tollett of the Night’s Watch. The boats coming ashore contained northmen, free folk, and about two dozen men of the Night’s Watch.

“Robb!”  he let out, pulling his cousin into a hug before he got a chance to be a stubborn lord and kneel before him.

“My King,” Robb answered as he backed away, glancing over at Vermithrex for a brief moment. “I will never get used to seeing that. How did you know to come? I could have handled this on my own.”

“I’ve gone mad and listened to Lady Melisandre,” he half-jested. It troubled him that he even considered what she had to say, but he could not chance letting his cousin and most loyal supporter fall beyond the Wall.

“How are things in Meereen?” Robb asked.

“Well, I hope. We just took Volantis a few days ago,” he answered.

“It did not go well I presume by the look on your face,” his cousin observed. _I will never forget the blood spilled to take Volantis._

“We took the city easily with few losses, but it came at a cost. Many died. More than I preferred. My armies killed many slave soldiers who were only following orders. The streets were littered with corpses. It is not something I will forget soon,” he told his cousin, not wanting to discuss the matter further.

“I understand,” Robb said, shifting his attention to Mance and Tormund approaching.

“What makes you think they will listen this time? I gave them a chance to join the realm and live in peace before. They refused,” Jon asked, cutting straight to the point.

“There is no food, the days are getting colder, and they have nowhere to go,” Tormund answered.

“If they stay here, they will all die. They did not listen to me when I first tried to unite them, but then the White Walkers came. They may be stubborn, but they know a hopeless situation when they’re in it,” Mance Rayder added.

Jon nodded his head, accepting the former King Beyond the Wall’s logic. Turning around, he found all the free folk at Hardhomme staring at him with suspicious looks. Many were filled with hate. They knew the men who attacked their people at Castle Black were his and loyal to House Targaryen. Standing with the men of the Night’s Watch also did him no favors in their eyes.

“Do you trust us Jon Targaryen?” he heard Tormund over his right shoulder.

“Does that make me a fool?” he asked, looking at all the faces ready to put a dagger in his heart. _Not likely. The free folk are more likely to take their time with me if they plan on killing me._

“We are fools together now,” Tormund replied in a cold tone. _So we are._ Knowing they could not stand there forever, looking like fools, Jon began to walk into the mass of people surrounding them with Tormund and Mance at his sides with Robb and Edd close behind. After walking a few hundred feet, they were greeted by a man who hid his face under a skull-mask. “Lord of Bones, it has been a long time.”

“Last time I saw you, you were marching south to climb to Wall to kill crows. Now I see you stand here with them and our old King Mance. What happened?” the Lord of Bones replied. _This will not go well._

“War,” Tormund answered.

“War? You call that a war. The greatest army the North has ever seen smashed to pieces by this southern King,” the Lord of Bones said in a disgusted tone. _We are all southerners south of the Wall._

“We should gather the elders and find somewhere quiet to talk,” Mance interrupted, impatient like Jon was to get this over with.

“You do not give orders around here anymore,” the wildling answered.

“I am not giving orders,” Mance replied.

“Why isn’t he in chains? Why haven’t you killed them already?” the Lord of Bones turned to ask Jon.

“It’s as I said when your people were at the Wall. If you bent the knee and abided by the laws of the Seven Kingdoms, you would fall under the protection of House Targaryen. Your people south of the Wall are now my people, citizens of the realm. We are all allies in the war against the Dead,” Jon replied.

“You fucking traitors. You fight for the crows now and bend the knee to their King,” the wildling said.

“I don’t fight for the crows,” Tormund replied, stepping closer to the Lord of Bones.

“We’re not here to fight. We’re here to talk,” Jon said.

“Is that right? You and your pretty King seem to do a lot of talking. And when you’re done talking, do you get down on your knees to suck his cock?” the Lord of Bones asked Tormund, hitting his club against Tormund’s chest until Tormund grabbed the club out of his hands. The former Lord of Bones did not stand a chance as Tormund bashed his skull in with his own weapon for all to see. Everyone just watched and said nothing.

“Gather the elders and find someplace to talk,” Mance ordered the men who stood behind the now lifeless Lord of Bones. They did not protest and turned to lead them further into Hardhomme toward the largest structure in the remote fishing village.

 

Jon looked around the inside of the wooden building filled with free folk from several different clans. There was even a giant sitting in the corner, listening. _Does he even understand the common tongue? I have only heard them speak their own tongue._ Sitting next to Robb, he shot his cousin a look, telling him he was not confident they would walk away from this successfully.

Standing up, he started, “My name is Jon Targaryen. I am the rightful King of Westeros and the King of Essos. We are not friends. We have never been friends. And we will not be friends after today. But this is not about being friends. This is about survival, putting a seven-hundred-foot wall between you and what’s out there.”

“It was you who put the Wall there,” one of the women inside said.

“Why do the crows care what happens to us?” a Thenn voiced.

“In normal times we wouldn’t, but these aren’t normal times. The White Walkers do not care if you live north or south of the Wall. We are all just meat for their army. Together, we can defeat them,” he told them.

“Defeat the White Walkers? Run from them maybe. Even with your dragons, it is likely not enough. Have you actually seen one King Crow?” the woman asked.

“I have not, but a friend of mine, a brother of the Night’s Watch has. I would trust him with my life and I know he tells no lies,” he answered, turning to Robb to take the pack of dragonglass daggers from him. Jon carried the pack over to the free folk sitting across from him, who looked hesitant to take it from him. “It is not a trick. It is a gift. Dragonglass. My friend killed a Walker with a dragonglass dagger. There are mountains of it on Dragonstone, the seat of House Targaryen. My men have been creating weapons for months. Join us south of the Wall and live. You did not join Mance years ago to conquer a kingdom. You joined together after centuries of fighting to live. You did so, so your children and their children could live and have a future. It is time the free folk join the realms of men. You should never have been left beyond the Wall. I am offering you a chance to join us in the Great War to come. The free folk can’t stop them. The Night’s Watch can’t stop them. All the southern lords can’t stop them. Only together. I cannot promise victory, but we can at least give the fuckers a fight,” he spoke, trying to win over the free folk who still held skeptical looks.

“Mance, Tormund, you vouch for this man?” the woman asked.

“He is prettier than both my daughters. He is young but he knows how to fight and lead. He did not have to come here. He could have unleashed those dragons upon us at Castle Black, but he didn’t. He is the only southern King to ever show us mercy and let us through the Wall. He needs us in this fight and we need him,” Tormund said.

“I do not trust you,” the woman said, staring into his eyes before turning to Tormund, “but I trust you Tormund. And you Mance. If you both say this is the way, then we are with you.”

“This is the way,” Mance said. _Why were they not with him after the Battle of Castle Black? Not having a cool head after the battle? Or something about the free folk I will never understand?_

“I’m with Tormund. If we stay here, we are dead men. At least with King Crow and Lord Stark, there is a chance,” one of the elders spoke up.

“Tormund,” the giant sitting in the corner boomed.

“Keep that new life he wants to give you. Keep your glass. As soon as you get on his ships, they will slit your throats and dump you into the sea. That is our enemy and will always be our enemy,” the Magnar of the Thenns said, walking past everyone, making sure to get his point across, pointing at Jon and Robb. _The fucker is lucky I do not put Longclaw through his face._

“I fucking hate Thenns,” the woman said as the Thenn left the building, earning Tormund’s agreement.

 

The free folk were moving too slowly for his liking. Most of the people at Hardhomme were women, elderly, or children who could not fight. _If they did, they would not last long._ It seemed to take ages for each boat to ferry them across the water to the Targaryen ships waiting for them. Jon did not want to stay here longer than he had to. _I have my Queens and children to return to._

“So, you found Blackfyre in Volantis, but did not think to bring it?” Robb mused.

“I thought about it, but I could make a fool of myself, fighting with a different sword. I am used to Longclaw, not Blackfyre,” he told his cousin. _Blackfyre is my family’s ancestral sword, but it does not feel like my own. Longclaw belongs to House Mormont, but it is the sword I have carried into battle and wielded to protect those I love._

“We both know that is bullshit Jon. You can wield any sword you find and defeat any man in this world,” Robb said in a mocking voice.

“You should not listen to Visenya. She thinks too highly of my skill,” he warned Robb, knowing any man could be defeated in combat.

“I have sparred with you for years. Arthur Dayne taught you everything he knows and more. I do not exaggerate when I say you can defeat any man brave enough to challenge you,” Robb said.

“We are leaving too many behind”, he said, looking at the free folk walk by to the shoreline.

“Aye. You did your best. They will come around eventually. Tormund is right. They are low on food and there is nothing to hunt here,” Robb tried to assuage his concerns.

“What is it like, ruling them?” he asked.

“Some can cause problems, but Mance and Tormund keep most of them in line. Lord Umber does not like it, but I reminded him of his oaths and where his loyalty lies. Alys Karstark is young, but keeping Karhold together. It has been easier than I thought,” Robb said just as they heard thunder from behind the cliffs overlooking Hardhomme.

The sound gave him an eerie feeling as the sky had already begun to darken and a fog rolled in from the distance. Dogs in the camp began to bark wildly, warning the free folk of a lurking predator outside of the camp. As everyone around him began to panic with fear painted on their faces, Jon knew what he was hearing was not thunder. _The White Walkers are here._

“Men, with me!” he ordered his soldiers standing behind him, unsheathing Longclaw. Robb also drew his sword and followed him through the rushing mass of free folk fleeing the approaching army. He heard Edd yell for the Night’s Watch to follow and protect the people as long as they could.

It was a struggle to reach the wooden wall built to protect the people of Hardhomme. Countless free folk rushed past them, holding them up from assisting the men already fighting. He could hear the sound of men screaming and steel clattering ahead. When they finally reached the gate near the large building that had met in earlier, Jon could not believe what his eyes saw.

Tormund was fighting a dead man with no skin, only bones and ragged clothing. The dead all looked different. Some were nothing more than bones while others were pale-skinned corpses that filled his heart with terror. _What dark magic created this?_ Getting over the initial shock, Jon pushed himself into the fray and started cutting down the wights around them.

Just as he finished cutting down one wight, another appeared in its place, ready to fight. He soon realized this enemy did not tire nor retreat. _We are lucky they have no skill._ It was a steady wave of attack as the wights climbed the wall, charging toward them. Jon found himself fighting beside Robb and Tormund, doing their best to fend off the attacking army.

As the wights kept coming, Jon knew it would not be long before the White Walkers revealed themselves. “I am going to get the dragonglass,” he yelled to Robb, before turning to run toward the large building. As he ran towards his intended destination, he saw the giant Wun Wun burst through the roof and out the side of the wooden structure, fighting off wights. _How is it still standing?_

When he entered the building, he saw the Magnar of the Thenns hacking away at four wights with his battleaxe. The mindless soldiers were no match for the man. Just as he caught sight of the dragonglass, he saw their true enemy walk through the opening Wun Wun had created. _Old Nan’s tales do not do them justice. No man should feel shame being terrified at the sight of them._

“Go, I’ll handle this,” the Thenn said, charging toward the White Walker. Jon ran to the sack holding the dragonglass, but failed to reach it in time as several wights came forward, slashing at him with poorly made weapons. Dealing with them was not difficult, but it did take time and he concentrated on his defenses, knowing he should not become complacent with this foe.

Just when he turned around to go for the weapons he needed, he saw the White Walker destroy the Thenn’s battleaxe with his spear of ice and kill the man. _Seven hells! How do we defeat that?_ Not given a chance to gather the glass, the White Walker walked quickly towards him. Before he could swing his sword, the Walker knocked Longclaw from his grasp. The pain coursing up his wrist was unbearable. _They are stronger than they look._

In a panic, he searched his surroundings for a weapon and saw a sword lying on the ground several feet away. Knowing time was precious, he rushed over to the sword. Picking it up, he swung around with the sword trying to land a blow only to fail. The sword shattered like glass as the Thenn’s battleaxe had before. Jon failed to react quickly enough and felt the White Walker hit him directly in his chest with the handle end of his spear.

Out of breath and crawling on the ground, knowing this could be the end, Jon tried to calm himself. It seemed luck was on his side as he came across Longclaw. Taking his sword in hand, he stumbled out of the now burning structure. It was hard to stand as his chest was in great pain and he tripped over his own legs. In the distance, he could hear Vermithrex roar and unleash his dragonfire upon the attacking wights.

Getting off the ground, Jon saw the White Walker approaching him with the ice spear that could cut through anything. Out of desperation, Jon lifted Longclaw to parry the incoming blow, knowing it was the end. Instead of his sword shattering in the wind, an ear-piercing sound rang through the air. The seemingly emotionless foe’s face turned to one of utter shock. His opponent was quicker, stronger, and perhaps more skilled. Jon wasted no time, taking advantage of the surprise in battle and swung Longclaw through his opponent’s middle. The White Walker shattered into thousands of pieces just as Sam said the one he killed did.

After staring down at Longclaw, Jon looked up at the cliffs standing at Hardhomme’s edge. Along the top of the cliff sat ten or more White Walkers observing the battle below. _I now know our enemy. The Night King is real. The White Walkers are real. The Army of the Dead is real. The wars between men no longer matter._ All he could do was stare at the Night King who was not hard to miss. It was easy to distinguish him as the leader of this army.

“We are going to fucking die here! We need to go!” Edd yelled, rushing up beside him.

“The dragonglass…,” he tried to get out between his heavy breaths. _Longclaw cannot fight them all off._

“Fuck the glass,” Edd cut him off.

Jon turned his gaze back to the Night King, who was off his horse and being handed a spear by one of the White Walkers standing at his side. Following his line of sight, Jon found his intended target. Flying toward them, Vermithrex abandoned the burning of the wights and headed toward the White Walkers. _Vermithrex, no! Turn around! Fly away!_

The spear was flying through the air faster and farther than any spear he had seen thrown before. Filled with fear for his dragon, Jon held his breath as the spear raced toward Vermithrex. Scared he would see his dragon fall, he found relief when Vermithrex twisted in the sky at the last possible moment from the spear, turning away toward the sea.

“Jon! Edd!” Robb yelled, standing next to Tormund. “To the ships!”

Nodding his head, Jon followed behind their retreating men toward their awaiting ships. He had never retreated before and this defeat stung. It was not pride that made him hurt. What pained Jon was the thought of leaving behind the free folk who were still fighting near where the gate of Hardhomme once stood. _This enemy will not be easily defeated. Can they be defeated? That spear nearly killed Vermithrex. Our dragons are vulnerable. I never thought that possible. The Dornish were lucky against Rhaenys three hundred years ago. The Night King’s throw was not luck._

Running as hard as he could with Edd, Robb, and Tormund, they ran down the small hill toward the old dock. A single boat remained with Mance standing there waiting for them. They all hopped onto the boat as fast they could, nearly tipping it over into the Shivering Sea. The men on the oars seemed more eager to flee than themselves. It did not take long for them to put a comfortable distance between themselves and the shore covered with wights massacring the living that still drew breath.

Wun Wun threw wights off his back, tearing them apart as he trudged into the freezing waters. The giant could not take a boat to the ships and would have to swim in order to survive. _At least we have another giant on our side for the Great War._

Shifting his attention back towards Hardhomme, Jon watched with despair as men and women were slaughtered by the hundreds before their eyes. The wights mercilessly hacked away at the living. It was not long before there was no more fighting and all the living had perished.

Through the army of wights walked the Night King down the dock they had just left. Slowly, in a calm manner, the Night King approached the edge of the dock staring at them with his piercing blue eyes. _What is he doing?_

Lifting his arms in the air, the Night King raised the dead and added the free folk he had just butchered to his army. By the thousands, new wights stood as soldiers in the Army of the Dead. They were no longer men and women, but wights who would kill anything that drew breath.

_How can we defeat him? Even if we make ground in any battle, every man we lose will be turned against us. Our dragons are vulnerable to their spears. We will need the entire Seven Kingdoms to win this war. We will need all of the free folk. We will need the Dothraki. It still might not be enough._

 

 

**Ashara Dayne**

She could not take her eyes off the sleeping babe in her arms. Her grandson was born ten days before and had barely left her sight. He was a loud child that wailed whenever he needed to be fed. All babes did the same, but this one seemed louder than others. To her relief, her little grandson was always calm in her arms. _Even more so in Allyria’s._

“You know you cannot hold Arthur forever Mother,” her daughter said, sitting across from her in Allyria’s chambers. Their quarters in the palace we quite elegant, built by the Valyrians long ago. The noble family who called it theirs before the taking of Volantis all perished. Some may have fled, but most were killed by the slaves they owned.

“I know. I should like to hold him until your lord husband comes back, unless you wish to have him back,” she told her daughter, focusing on the sleeping babe’s features. Arthur held his father’s blue eyes but they did not yet know the coloring of his hair. Allyria initially wanted to name him after her father, but decided against it knowing Robb had named his son Eddard and Jon and Daenerys had a son by the same name. _Arthur was like a father to Allyria her entire life._

“It is quite alright Mother, I have held him enough for today. I won’t let him out of my sight, but I am glad to see him loved by you,” Allyria replied.

“I felt the same when you were born. I wanted to keep you all to myself in Starfall. I think the only people who saw you the first moon were my parents, siblings, and the maester. And their time with you was short. You are a mother now. You know what it is like, the feeling of needing to protect your blood,” she told Allyria.

“I wish Father were here for this,” Allyria let out with a faltering voice.

“I do as well. He was stolen from us. Stolen from you. I always dream of what could have been if I had handled things differently at Harrenhal. I should have done what Lyanna and Rhaegar did. Run off and marry him,” Ashara mused, imagining herself sharing a life with Eddard Stark. _My Ned._

“How could you have known? I sometimes wish I had done things differently in King’s Landing. I try to think of ways I should have seen it all coming, but there is nothing we can do. How could we have known? We cannot change the past, but we can see the wrongs done to our family righted,” her daughter comforted her.

“I am supposed to be the one easing your pains, not the other way around. I am your mother,” she protested.

“You are the best mother in this world and I am grateful for the life you have given me. And it was you who kept me going when we found out about Father. It was you who told me on Dragonstone that we would see those who murdered him suffer. They will come to regret their crimes soon,” Allyria stated.

“It could still be a year before we return to Westeros,” she warned her daughter.

“Aye, but we are getting closer. Visenya told me we will leave for Lys soon,” Allyria confirmed what she had heard mentioned by Elia.

“They think it is wise to leave Volantis so quickly? It is an old city that still may hold many enemies. It reminds me of Meereen,” she said with concern. _They risk stretching themselves thin in Essos. Even with the dragons, it will be difficult to rule their lands from the Wall to Qarth._

“House Maegyr will keep what little is left of the nobility in line and Kinvara will keep her followers from revolting,” Allyria said.

“You trust them?” she asked. _The Maegyrs are Volantene nobility and Kinvara leads an army of fanatics._

“Kinvara, no. I do trust Lady Talisa. Her words sound true,” Allyria responded, moving in to finally take a sleeping Arthur out of her arms.

“Just because she met your brother in the Riverlands does not mean she can be trusted,” she tried to tell her daughter.

“I know Mother. But her story is true and I know she detests slavery. If there is one thing I have learned from our time in Essos, it is that the masters do not hide their contempt for slaves well. Talisa does not approve of the practice and that is all Volantis needs. Yes, she is trying to protect her family, but I know she will protect House Targaryen’s interests to ensure slavery never returns and her family lives,” Allyria said.

Ashara watched as her daughter sat back down while doting upon her firstborn. Seeing the love Allyria held for her son warmed her heart and she prayed for at least one more grandchild. _A little girl with her mother’s looks. A pretty little lady that would grow up in Highgarden, wanting for naught._

“Mother, I have been meaning to speak with you. Willas and I have talked. We plan to return to Westeros before the invasion. His place is at Highgarden and my place is now by his side. I know you want to…,” Allyria informed her before she finally stopped her daughter.

“It is quite alright. I will go with you, if I am not imposing,” she told Allyria, who beamed with a smile.

“Of course, you will not be imposing. I would not have it any other way. Arthur needs his grandmother,” Allyria said.

“We must be careful upon our return. If Cersei or any of the rest hear of our plans to travel to Highgarden, they will do all they can to take us,” she warned of the dangers.

“Visenya promised us the necessary ships to escort us to Oldtown. And from there, House Tyrell has enough men and loyal Houses to see us safely to Highgarden,” her daughter said as she left a kiss upon her babe’s brow.

“So, when do we leave for Oldtown?” Ashara asked.

“After we take Lys,” Allyria answered. _We are finally returning home. But where will my home in Westeros be? Highgarden. I have no husband and no other children. Allyria and little Arthur are the most precious things in my life. I said farewell to Starfall all those years ago. Perhaps Highgarden is where I will finally settle._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vermithrex avoiding the ice spear will be important. Jon knows the dragons are vulnerable now & it will affect how they fight the Night King. Considered bringing in Blackfyre with the Golden Company but that was not going to work w/ what I have planned. Next chapter is called Lys and has Daenerys, Lyanna, & Rhaenys POVs. Tell me what you think in the comments.


	30. Lys

**Daenerys Targaryen**

Standing at the bow of _The Sea Dragon_ , Daenerys watched with Rhaenys, Visenya, and Allyria as their fleet approached the coast of Lys. Jon flew overhead on Vermithrex, leading their dragons over their ships to dissuade the Lyseni from attacking at sea. Turning to Rhaenys and Visenya at her sides, she gave them both a nervous look.

Daenerys felt helpless, standing there with her hands protectively resting on her pregnant stomach. She was not one to shy away from a battle atop Drogon and it felt wrong for her men to go into battle without her. _What kind of Queen am I if I am not willing to risk my own life for my people?_ She asked Jon the same question. He told her she was a mother before a Queen and he wanted the babes born before she would fly Drogon again.

She wanted to protest and tell him he was a father who had responsibilities as well. Daenerys would not admit it, but a small part of her was relieved to not be part of this battle. She was tired of the bloodshed and knew there would be plenty more when they returned home.

“I hate this. We should be up there with him,” Visenya said, concentrating on Jon circling the city.

“I know,” she answered, sneaking a glance at Lyanna, Elia, and Ashara standing further back along the ship’s starboard side, pointing at the ships nearing the port of Lys.

“At least we can enjoy this city. It is the most beautiful place I have ever seen,” Rhaenys mused as the winds blew her unbraided hair back. She could not deny what Rhaenys said. Lys was something else. The waters were a clear blue that allowed one to see the shadows of their ships glide across the sea floor. White stone buildings filled the coastline of the city and from a distance, it was the most appealing city she had seen in Essos.

“The Unsullied have reached the port, look,” Visenya said, pointing at several ships with their sigil reaching the docks of the harbor. _The Lyseni are poor fighters. Their sellswords have likely fled. Not that I blame them. They must know what our dragons can do._

It was then she noticed Missandei standing just behind her left shoulder, gazing at the impending fight with a wary face. “Do not worry my friend, he will return to you,” she comforted her friend, giving her hand a squeeze.

“He better,” Missandei said, not taking her eyes off the city ahead.

With the winds blowing in her face, Daenerys found her fingers playing with a necklace Jon had given her before leaving King’s Landing. He still flew circles above the city and had not descended to attack. It did nothing to relieve her anxious nerves. _We will take Lys with ease, but even the greatest of warriors can fall in the smallest of battles. Jon had taught me that._

From what she could tell, no ladders had been set up against the city walls. If the Unsullied were not climbing the walls and Jon was not unleashing the dragons upon the parapets, Daenerys concluded their army was breeching the gate with little resistance. _If our men are already in the city, it will be ours by midday._

Allyria was saying something to Visenya in a hushed tone. Daenerys felt sorry for her. It was only the second battle she had to see Willas go off to. Daenerys remembered how she felt when Jon went beyond the Wall all those years ago, when he fought Khal Drogo, and when she did not know of his whereabouts during the chaos outside Qohor.

_Castle Black was the worst. That is when I first knew I was in love with him. I never said it nor admitted the feeling to myself, but now I know. He was just a boy then and had no business fighting the wildlings. I did not sleep a night while he was away in the wilderness. Neither did Visenya._

“Mother!” she heard her daughter yell behind her. Daenerys twisted around to find Arya running across the deck of the ship in her little white dress. Her little princess crashed into her own white dress she acquired in Meereen. She loved the Essosi dresses that allowed her to breath and bare more skin than those made in Westeros. _Well, everywhere in Westeros besides Dorne._

“I told you Arya, you need to stay in your quarters,” she scolded her willful daughter who was sure to reign terror upon the servants of the Red Keep in the years to come.

“But I want to see the battle. I want to see father fly Vermithrex. It isn’t fair,” Arya argued, pouting her lips. Daenerys smirked at the idea of her daughter thinking her charms would work on her like they did Jon. _He spoils her._

“Don’t give me that face Arya. Now go back to your quarters and stay with Doreah. Do as she says and take your brother with you,” she instructed her little princess after catching Rhaegar approaching with his wooden sword in hand. Arya looked to Lyanna and Elia for help, but received none after they gave her knowing looks.

Huffing in defeat, Arya turned on her heels and ran to Rhaegar, grabbing his free hand to pull him with her below. _I pray Senya does not learn from her older sister. I cannot handle two of them._ Once Arya disappeared below with her Valyrian hair bouncing around, Daenerys turned back to see Visenya laughing at the scene.

“Do not encourage it. She needs to learn to act like a princess more,” she warned Visenya.

“Do not blame me. Look who you named her after,” Visenya replied. _What can I say to that?_

“The city is yours, your Graces,” Ser Barristan announced walking up to the bow. Daenerys turned to find a Targaryen banner hanging from the parapets over the gate at the port. There could still be fighting behind the white stone walls, but Daenerys knew the Lord of Commander of the Kingsguard was correct.

“Tell the captain to take us ashore,” Rhaenys ordered Ser Barristan.

“Yes, my Queen,” he answered and quickly retreated to speak with the captain at the aft of _The_ _Sea Dragon._

“Do you think the Lyseni will give us the same troubles as the Meereenese?” Rhaenys asked.

“Hard to say. I think not. They have many pillow slaves and are known for their trade, not fighting. What do you think?” she asked Visenya. Lys was filled with descendants of Old Valyria and Daenerys knew Visenya knew more than anyone about their ancestors.

“I agree. As long as we keep a firm grip over the city while we are here and remove the most troublesome of the lot, we should be able to leave without a long stay. What of Magister Illyrio? Does he not have men we can rely on here?” Visenya questioned.

“Varys said he knows who to turn to here,” Rhaenys spoke up. _I would hope so. The Spider was born here or at least that is story he has told us._

“Tyrosh and Myr will not fall so easily,” Visenya proclaimed as their ship inched closer to the port filled with their ships and Unsullied marching around the docks.

“No, they will not,” she confirmed.

“They will have plenty of sellsword companies fighting for them, perhaps we could acquire their services. What sellsword wants to die for a losing side?” Visenya proposed the idea.

“If the sellswords are still there to defend the cities, then we should end them. If they are stupid enough to stand with the slavers after what we have done, they do not deserve the chance,” Rhaenys stated. Daenerys agreed considering the circumstances. As they continued to acquire more lands, Daenerys figured the sellsword companies would eventually see House Targaryen as a threat to their very existence. _If we control all of Essos and retake Westeros, they will have no one to pay them._

 

Stepping foot onto the docks of Lys, Daenerys held Eddard and Senya’s small hands, walking them past dozens of Unsullied who were there to escort them to a manse that was supposed to be located on a hill near the sea. Ser Barristan kept a close eye on her oldest walking ahead of her towards the end of the dock leading to the port gate.

“Muna! Jurnegon, Kepa!” Senya pointed toward Jon approaching with Arthur Dayne and Oswell Whent behind him. From what she could see, their armor was spotless and none of them looked tired from a fight. It was a relief to know he kept himself in the air and he never came close to harm.

“Kessa, jikagon dakogon naejot zirȳla,” she told her second oldest twins. Jon was already on one knee, hugging Rhaegar and Arya. Four more little princes and princesses went stumbling past her towards their father. Daenerys never felt prouder of Jon than when she watched him with the children. _He is the perfect father I always imagined he would be._

She could see Arya grabbing at Blackfyre on his hip. Her daughter did not go for dolls or dresses. She was obsessed with wielding a sword like Visenya and proclaimed she would be a warrior princess. _Can she just be content with riding a dragon?_

As she approached, Jon smiled at her while listening to their children ramble on over something. With the distance between them closed, he pulled her in for a kiss, gently caressing her stomach. “Is the fighting over?” she asked once she unsealed her lips from his.

“There wasn’t much fighting to begin with. I think they saw the dragons and gave up,” Jon said, before Visenya and Rhaenys came over. Each savored their kisses as she had. Daenerys knew they felt just as nervous for his safety as she had.

“Good, it would be a shame to spill blood in such a beautiful city,” Daenerys said, taking in the clear waters and palm trees lining the shoreline near the port.

“Shall we?” Jon asked, holding an open hand for her to grasp. Beaming at his gesture, she took his hand and leaned into his side as they walked down the dock. Only Unsullied and Targaryen soldiers were around, so they did not mind showing their affection. A more kingly and queenly appearance would be displayed for the Lyseni once they entered the city.

 

Grey Worm’s men managed to acquire several wheelhouses to carry their family through Lys. Jon rode on his horse, wearing his dark grey gorget engraved with their sigil over his black battle leathers. Daenerys shook her head at what he wore in such a warm climate. _He always goes into battle like a man prepared to fight in the snows of the North._

The Lysene people lined the streets, trying to peer through the viewing ports of their wheelhouse. Daenerys had never seen so many people who possessed the physical features of Old Valyria. The majority of the people held normal coloring, but there were enough with silver or silver-gold hair to surprise her. The people of Westeros would assume they were of House Targaryen if they saw them in King’s Landing.

Even the pillow houses they passed were beautifully constructed buildings that added to the allure of Lys. Regardless, Daenerys wished for their procession to move quickly so her children would not see anything that would require an explanation. The streets were clean and its people the same. Palm trees could be found everywhere, along with other tropical plants at street corners, squares, balconies, and shopfronts.

Initially, they passed through the grand markets of Lys near its port before riding past a mix of shops along their path. She only spotted one blacksmith’s shop. Mostly, they passed inns, bakeries, and silk traders. Eventually the buildings decreased in stature and they realized they were leaving the center of Lys.

The further they rode from the port gate they entered, the less dense Lys became. Instead of tightly packed shops, homes, temples, and inns, they began to ride past gardens, manses, and buildings not lying in the shadows of others. Each manse was greater than the next until they reached their destination, guarded by high white stone walls lined with palm trees and partially covered in ivy.

Stepping out of their wheelhouse, Daenerys gazed at the impressive fountain just feet away that graced the entrance to a large manse. The tropical climate must have gotten to the direwolves considering the first thing they did was leap into the fountain to cool themselves off. _They belong in Westeros. If I am being honest, they belong in the North and only the North._

Before she could yell to stop them, Arya jumped into the fountain after the direwolves, bringing her sister Senya with her. Worrying how high the water was for her little daughters, she was relieved to see the water only came up to Visenya’s shoulders. “Jon…,” she looked at him, not needing to say anymore. He understood her concern and stepped into the water, picking up their daughters from the fountain.

“Arya, if you wish to play in the fountains, you need to ask first or you will lose your sword. Understand?” she asked. Her daughter just giggled and ran off into the manse in her soaked dress with Visenya following behind. Arya knew all she had to do was run to Jon to get the sword back if she took it away. _At least Rhaegar is his father’s son._

“They were stuck in that ship for weeks, let them have their fun,” Visenya said next to her, urging Dany to follow her sisters.

“I wouldn’t mind it if she wasn’t so fearless. I don’t want them thinking they can just rush off into the water without asking their mothers or father. If we let her get away with it too much, the rest will follow her lead and ignore us,” she countered, not approving of Visenya’s more relaxed attitude toward the children’s actions.

“Doreah, please make sure they are safe and behaving themselves inside,” Rhaenys asked their handmaiden.

“Yes, my Queen,” Doreah answered. Their Lysene handmaiden had never looked so happy. She was home. On the journey from Volantis, she had told Daenerys how much she wished to see the city again. Apparently, she still had a sister in the city and Daenerys ordered Varys to find her and free her from the pillow house she served when they arrived.

“The manse belonged to House Rogare,” Varys spoke up, standing beside them with Tyrion Lannister. “Viserys II lived here for years before returning to Westeros.” _Yes, it won House Rogare riches and influence in Westeros. If any foreign lords think about laying their hands on my children, they will be rewarded with fire and blood._

“Who held it before this day?” Rhaenys asked, staring at the three-story manse with multiple balconies overlooking the courtyard.

“A very rich and powerful man who thought he would live forever. He met his end in the night. My little birds sang songs of his plotting with the Volantenes,” Varys answered. _Do his birds kill as well as sing songs? It matters not, as long as he serves House Targaryen and the Realm._

“And how many rich and powerful men did not wake in Lys this morning?” Tyrion quipped.

“Less than the fingers on one’s hands, except for our Lord Hand I fear,” Varys replied. _These two love the back and forth. They were made for King’s Landing and the Red Keep. Or did it make them?_

“Lord Varys, can we expect to find men to work with in this city or will we have to build a council made up entirely of freed slaves?” Visenya asked. They wanted to establish a council with lowborn and highborn, merchant and soldier. It would ease the transition if they found willing partners in the rich families that were accepting of the outlaw of slavery.

“There are several families, your Grace, who understand they live in a new world. They will do their best to resist, but they will not fight. The power of the dragons alone will instill submission,” Varys said.

“Good. Lord Varys, Lord Tyrion, you have both ruled in King’s Landing and kept the city standing under Joffrey. Go and begin our work here in Lys. I expect to hear what you have learned and what efforts we have begun on the morrow,” she dismissed both. _We will worry about the troubles of Lys in the morning._

From across the courtyard, she eyed Jon and Davos speaking with Varys and Tyrion before their departure into the city. Lyanna and Elia were entering the manse with the smallest of their children with the other handmaidens to help prepare the nursery in this new home. _I need to see to Benjen and Daemon soon. I haven’t held them since this morning._

 

It was an exhaustive few hours, setting their new manse how they preferred and attending to her youngest children’s needs. Since she was so far along with the babes she carried now, Daenerys tired far more easily than usual. She would always thank Lyanna, Elia, and her handmaidens for their assistance. Ashara was understandably occupied with her own grandson with Allyria several rooms down the hall.

Once the babes were asleep, Daenerys made her way down to the ivy-covered pavilion near the shallow pools and fountains behind the manse, overlooking the mesmerizing waters surrounding Lys. Seated across Jon’s lap with her arms around his neck and her head buried in the crook of his neck, she watched the children play in the pools. They were running around, splashing water at each other, and playing the games small children play.

The sight before her was what she imagined her life would be like at Summerhall. Instead, they were in Lys overlooking the Summer Sea with the cool winds blowing in her face while relaxing in the shade. After Jon had described to her what he saw at Hardhomme, Daenerys made sure to savor this moment and not take a bit of her life for granted.

_Will my children see another summer? Will they grow up in a long winter? Will they even see winter? Could we fail and lose in the great game before we even face the dead?_

Hating the feelings such thoughts brought on, Daenerys shook her head and focused on Rhaegar leading his three oldest brothers, splashing the water towards their sisters. Jon laid a kiss on her braided hair while tracing his fingers along her bare arm. “It seems they have forgotten Meereen entirely,” he mused, causing her to smile at the thought.

“Yes, it seems so. It scares me they will expect home to be like this. This place is wonderful. What if they hate Dragonstone and King’s Landing? Summerhall will do, but how can the Red Keep compare to this?” she asked.

“They may complain but they will soon forget. And do not worry, they will love Dragonstone. Visiting the grandmother they have never seen will ensure that. And you always say they are your little dragons. Dragonstone is the only home for a dragon,” Jon assured her, lifting her chin up to face him. His stare was intense, but loving as she lost herself in his storm-grey eyes. He still kissed her with the same passion they shared when they first confessed their love for each other in Winterfell. _I am one of the lucky Queens. I chose to marry my King and loved him before he was ever expected to wear the crown._

“It makes me sad to think my mother has not seen her own grandchildren. She is stuck there, all by herself,” she said while glancing at Lyanna sitting at the edge of the pool, shielding herself from the water being thrown up by Eddard and Aegon.

“A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing,” Jon said, echoing something Uncle Aemon told them years ago. “But she will not be alone forever. We will return.”

“Promise me, we will return soon,” she pleaded, hoping for his assurance. Daenerys always believed in herself and what she could accomplish as a Queen, but in private, she wanted Jon to be her strength as she was his.

“I promise, Dany,” he said.

 

 

**Lyanna Stark**

She could not hold back her laughter as her granddaughter attempted to grab the reigns of her mare as they rode down the white sand beaches lining part of the Lysene shore. Most of the coastline was rocky near the city of Lys, but the island held the most beautiful white sands she had ever seen. Her mare was not the best she had ever sat upon, but it did its job entertaining Arya.

Arya was just like herself and her namesake. She loved horseback riding and begged to wield a sword like the boys. _I will do my best to teach her how to handle a bow when she is old enough. Visenya will need to show her how to handle a sword._

When the mare began to slow, Lyanna pulled on the reigns to halt the beast in its tracks and gather needed rest. Slipping out of the saddle in her riding breeches, she lifted Arya from the white mare and placed her on the ground. She was already frowning because their ride had been cut short.

“Grandmother, why did we stop? I want to ride more! When can I get a horse?” Arya rambled on.

Kneeling down, Lyanna pulled the princess close to look at her. “You heard your father before we left. You will get one when you are big enough. I will pick the perfect pony for you when we return home,” she told her angry little princess.

“But I am big enough,” Arya pouted, putting her hands on her hips to show she meant it. “Mother said Dothraki ride horses when they are babes.”

“That isn’t what she said,” she replied with a knowing look. “Trust me little one, when we are back at Dragonstone, I will help you ride as much as you want.”

“I want to go to Winterfell. Mother says snow is there. I hate sand,” Arya said. _This is where Old Nan would call her a sweet summer child._

“You have not seen snow. You may not like it if you had to live with it come winter,” she warned the little girl.

“I would! I would! Father says Snow and Ghost like snow. He says they like cold. I want them to be happy,” Arya replied with a smile. _She certainly does love the direwolves. But then again, which of them didn’t?_

“They are happy. Give them attention and treat them nice. I saw you and your brothers and sisters running around earlier with swords. What were you all doing?” she asked Arya.

“We were playing conquerors. I was Visenya, Rhaegar was Aegon, and Senya was Rhaenys. We take turns, but I like being Visenya. She had Dark Sister,” Arya beamed with pride, showing her little teeth.

“Just make sure not to hit your brothers and sisters too hard when they are the bad people,” Lyanna told her, running her fingers through Arya’s windblown silver hair.

“I know. Father told me when I made Dany cry one time. I told her sorry,” Arya mumbled looking down at her feet in the sand. _I did not mean to upset her. At least she cares about her sisters._

“You want to know something” she asked, lifting Arya’s chin.

“What?” Arya replied with excitement.

“I used to play swords with my brothers like you when I was little. I even used to beat them too. Make sure to take it easy on them sometimes. Especially your little brothers. My brother Benjen hated losing until one day he was better than me and never lost again. Be nice and let them win sometimes. They will always look out for you if you do,” she told Arya, ruffling the little girl’s hair when she made a distrustful face.

“Fine, but I won’t let Rhaegar win. He is too good,” Arya huffed. _He got that from Jon. He takes everything seriously, even at his age._

 

Lyanna observed Elia standing on their balcony, gazing upon the clear night sky and the lights littering the hills of Lys below. Her eyes moved up and down, examining Elia’s familiar bare skin under the moonlight. It was warm enough in Lys for one to discard their clothes at night and never feel compelled to find warmth.

Laying on her side atop the sheets of their bed, Lyanna wondered if she would ever cool off from her earlier exertions. Things had improved over the past two years between them. They still missed Rhaegar, but his absence no longer loomed over them every moment they spent together.

Elia must have noticed her staring and stepped across the stone floor to join her in bed. “Do you remember when Rhaegar promised to bring us here?” Elia asked after settling across from her with her head on the silk covered pillows.

“I remember,” she confirmed, thinking back on several promises he never had the time to fulfill.

“He would have loved it. I know the little ones do,” Elia said.

“Arya told me she wants to leave and see Winterfell. She wants to see the snow,” she told her.

“She is more wolf than dragon,” Elia replied with a smirk.

“I beg to differ. You have seen her with the dragons. They are all fearless when it comes to those beasts. They are more dragon than wolf,” she countered.

“Either way, she will get her wish soon. We are nearly home and the true war lies in the North. Winter is coming, as you Starks like to remind everyone,” Elia responded, reminding her of what evil they faced. _I wish I could bury the thought away and never hear of White Walkers and Night Kings ever again, but that is not me. I am a Stark of Winterfell and winter is coming. I have to face it. My family has to face it._

“Aye, winter is coming. For once, I wish our words did not ring true,” she said. _An army of dead men? A foe who has the strength to bring down a dragon? This should have been our war, not our children’s._

“Jon will know what to do. He hasn’t lost a battle yet,” Elia tried to raise her spirits. _Hardhomme was not a loss but it was no victory either._

“First we must defeat the Lannisters and take back the Seven Kingdoms. We will need a united realm to defeat them,” she said.

“Did you hear Tyrion discussing strategies? He thinks because he served as Hand and defended King’s Landing against Stannis, he can come up with a plan to defeat Cersei,” Elia added.

“I heard him. He is a fool. Leading men into battle and ruling a kingdom are not the same thing. If they were, Tywin would have defeated Robb and Robert Baratheon would have made for a good Lord of Storm’s End. Tyrion thinks he is clever. He is, I will give him that. It is more than I can say for his sister and Jaime is no schemer. Tyrion is Tywin’s son whether he would hear of it or not. But when it comes to war, I do not trust him. He is likely to come up with some ridiculous plan that overcomplicates the matter,” she told Elia, who laughed at her comment about Cersei. _I hope to see her before she meets her end._

“It is a good thing our King is no boy then, needing of a regent,” Elia alluded to the boy, Tommen, who now sat the Iron Throne. _Jon is no boy. But he is still my son._ “Now, where were we?”

Not giving her a chance to respond, Elia plunged into her mouth, getting a taste before gently biting her lower lip. After all these years, she knew how to get to her and make her come undone. Lyanna figured the Dornish were natural lovers who were experts on getting the most out of others in bed. Throwing her head further back into the pillow, she closed her eyes as Elia kneaded her breast while kissing her neck. She prayed they would not get too carried away for there was much to do on the morrow regarding the affairs of Lys.

 

 

**Rhaenys Targaryen**

“What are they complaining about now?” Rhaenys asked Tyrion and Varys sitting across the table under the pavilion between their manse and its pools. It was her first council meeting since giving birth to two healthy little princesses. Her daughter with the typical Targaryen features was named Viserra while the babe with raven hair and her eyes was named Ashara. _My next little girl will be named after my mother._

“The Stepstones your Grace. Tyrosh and Myr are letting piracy consume the shipping lanes. They know it will stir unrest in Lys,” Tyrion answered. _Our enemies are not complete fools. The Myrish and Tyroshi know Lys depends on trade by sea more than their own cities._

“It isn’t just the honest sea captains who are struggling to sail through the Stepstones. The smugglers are having a hard go of it,” Lord Davos added in his distinct Flea Bottom accent. _I hope to see the faces of a few particular lords when they discover the Onion Knight has been named our Hand if they haven’t already._

“The smugglers should be able to earn their coin again when we set sail for Myr and Tyrosh. Until then, they along with the honest merchants of Lys will have to live on their trade with the east,” Jon replied, shaking his head in amusement at Davos’ concern for the men who carried on his former profession.

“Where will you strike first? Tyrosh? It is closest,” Varys asked.

“Jon and I will sail for Myr with two hundred ships, while Daenerys and Visenya will lead the rest of our fleet in the attack on Tyrosh,” Rhaenys informed their advisors who were not aware of their plans. _Well, we did inform Davos, but not the others until now._

“Visenya and I will lead the Unsullied and Targaryen army against Tyrosh. We will rule there until the city is secured and then sail for Pentos. From Pentos, we will sail for Dragonstone and begin our war against Cersei,” Daenerys proclaimed.

Rhaenys was amazed at the energy Daenerys carried after giving birth. _She must be used to it by now._ Daenerys gave birth to two girls with Jon’s raven hair. The one with his eyes was named Lyanna, a fitting name. The one with violet eyes was named Rhaenys. It flattered her heart that Daenerys gave the princess her name. Visenya gave birth to Prince Jaehaerys, who possessed the Valyrian features of their family. Jaehaerys’ twin sister was Lyarra, named for Jon’s grandmother. Lyarra was a loud babe from the moment she was born. The princess looked like a Stark and Rhaenys figured her cries were the wolfsblood in her.

“You plan to split your forces? Would it not be wise to stay together?” her mother asked at the end of the table. “Take more ships to Myr if you must.”

“Mother, we are not traveling to Myr alone. We will have six dragons and a khalasar,” she attempted to assuage her mother’s worries. After being turned away by Doran, her mother was much more inclined for their family to stay together. From the look on her mother’s face, Rhaenys guessed she was not pleased with the answer. “If we split our efforts, we will return home sooner. These cities rely on sellswords and slaves to defend them. They will not hold back our dragons.”

“When should we prepare the fleet to set sail?” Ser Jorah asked.

“Ten days after the new year,” Jon ordered.

“What of Braavos and the Iron Bank? Their gold paid for the ships and soldiers sent to Meereen,” Ser Jorah asked.

“They will be dealt with in time. Braavos has not taken up arms against us nor sent their fleet to blockade Pentos or Dragonstone,” Jon declared. “I am more concerned with Cersei and her rule over King’s Landing.”

“If I may, your Graces. I have received word from King’s Landing. The High Sparrow and his followers have imprisoned Cersei,” Varys spoke up.

“Imprisoned her? For what? She put them in power,” Allyria questioned at her side with a look of confusion on her face. She was enraged to learn her brother by law was held by the Sparrows. Willas sat next to her, as calm as one could be when such a subject came up.

“She should have known they would turn on her. When have they not? All she had to do was pick up a book and read,” Visenya added with a hint of amusement. Her sister was one of the nicest and caring people she had ever met, but she held a deep mistrust for the Faith of the Seven. _She is no Maegor, but the Faith should be careful not to overstep during her reign._

“Is my brother still in chains?” Willas asked.

“I am afraid so my Lord,” Varys answered, turning back to Jon. “That is not all. There are whispers they plan to make her take a walk of atonement from the Sept of Baelor to the Red Keep.” _Good, the evil bitch deserves much worse. I would wish for her to fall before reaching the Red Keep, but I want to feed her to Myrax so the last thing she sees is me smiling down upon her._

“My brother would never let that happen. He will kill every one of them in King’s Landing before letting her take that walk,” Tyrion added.

“Ser Jaime is not in King’s Landing. My birds saw him leave alone on a ship headed south, but that is where they lost him,” Varys told the table.

“Dorne. Where else would he be headed?” Ashara added, sitting next to her mother. It made sense, considering Myrcella was at Sunspear, betrothed to her cousin Trystane. Deep down, a secret part of Rhaenys hoped Jaime had finally given up on Cersei and was returning to serve her. _He would never harm me, would he? He helped me escape. He has saved my life twice. Once as a little girl along with the rest of the population of King’s Landing. And once, from his own family._

“Why would he be sailing to Sunspear alone?” Daenerys questioned.

“Troubles with my uncle perhaps. It wouldn’t surprise me if he plotted to sit Trystane and Myrcella on the throne at this point,” Rhaenys said, fuming at the memory of her blood not supporting Jon’s claim.

“It matters not. As time goes by, their position weakens. We have Cersei’s stupidity to thank for that and Tommen’s weakness,” Daenerys said. _I want Cersei dead, but what kind of king lets his mother be imprisoned in his own city and face such humiliation. Jon is a kind King who cares for the smallfolk, but he would burn King’s Landing to the ground before he let that happen to any of the women in our family. Tommen is a weak boy, nothing more._

“With Cersei imprisoned, that means my Uncle Kevan rules,” Tyrion said. All Rhaenys knew of Kevan Lannister was his capabilities as a military commander and the right hand of Tywin. “That is not good for us. He will prove a more capable foe than my sister.”

“Lord Varys, keep us apprised of the situation in King’s Landing. If that is all my Lords,” Jon dismissed their council except for those belonging to House Targaryen and the Daynes.

Waiting for their advisors to leave, Rhaenys watched Allyria place her hand over Willas’ arm, telling him to stay. She did not voice her uneasiness, but she still felt skeptical of including the future Lord of Highgarden in family conversations. _Allyria is our sister. Jon and Visenya’s blood. I need to trust her husband. He has not given us reason not to trust him yet, other than his family name._

“What do you think?” Daenerys asked Jon, who looked deep in thought, brooding over the decisions that lie ahead.

“Its tempting. They are weaker than ever. We have a plan. A good plan. We should stick to it. We got this far in Essos, not rushing our moves,” Jon said. If this conversation took place several years ago, she would be screaming for them to leave. Time had changed her. _My children have changed me. I will not take risks with their future._

“What about the Night King and his army?” Visenya asked. “What if they attack the Wall and invade the North?”

“Then we will fly north and sail our armies north at once,” Jon eased her concern.

Rhaenys’ attention shifted to Ser Arthur Dayne walking at a brisk pace toward their table in a doublet considering his Kingsguard armor was not necessary here. Dawn was still strapped to his belt, unlike Barristan and Oswell, who wielded Valyrian steel swords gifted to them in Volantis. Arhur had a smile on his face, which was unusual. _He is always a serious man, taking his duties as a Kingsguard sometimes too seriously for her liking._

“Your Graces, visitors from Dorne,” Arthur said, turning his head to look from where he came. Rhaenys wondered who could possibly be visiting from Dorne. _Lord Dayne? Tyene or Obara or Nym?_

Walking out of the manse, Rhaenys caught sight of Arianne in a red Dornish dress, arm in arm with Edric Dayne. It had been years since she had seen the future Lord of Starfall, but it was him. He was now a man grown and did not look like the boy she remembered. Arianne still looked like the beautiful princess every man in Dorne lusted for.

Not waiting for her cousin a moment longer, Rhaenys stood from her chair and closed the distance to Arianne. She threw her arms around her shorter cousin who was near the same height as Daenerys. Making sure Arianne was actually there with her, Rhaenys squeezed as tight as she possibly could to ensure this was no illusion.

“Are you going to let me breathe, your Grace?” Arianne whispered into her ear.

“Yes, I am sorry. I just cannot believe you are here. I did not know when I would see you again. If I would see you again,” she told Arianne, thinking about the times she feared never seeing her cousin again. _Arianne made her loyalty to me clear years ago, but time can change people. I prayed we would not find ourselves on opposite sides of the wars to come._

“I am here now. We are here now. Edric and I wed three moons ago in Starfall,” Arianne said, as she walked with her, back to the table filled with her family.

“And what did my brother have to say about that?” her mother asked. _Doran wed her to Joffrey. Surely, he expected to send her back to King’s Landing for Tommen._

“He did not know. Gerold and Tyene assisted in my escape from Sunspear. When my father told me I would be going back to King’s Landing, I had to do something. He wanted me wed to that boy they call a king. He wanted to steal Sunspear from me and give it to Quentyn. I could not let that happen. My loyalty is to you and House Targaryen. I will have revenge on the family that killed Aegon, Lewyn, and Oberyn,” Arianne answered, failing to hide the anger in her voice as she spoke about Doran.

“Thank you, Ari, you know how much this means to me. To us,” she said, glancing at Jon standing at her side to greet Arianne and Edric.

“My King,” Edric said as he bent the knee beside Arianne, showing their fealty toward House Targaryen.

“Rise, Lord Edric and Princess Arianne,” Jon responded, showing an uncomfortable face. _He hates the customs of court and even more so with those he knows._ Jon had known Edric Dayne from the time they were boys in King’s Landing. Edric had visited the Red Keep for months with his father and mother to see Ashara, Allyria, and Arthur.

“Your Grace, House Dayne will fight for House Targaryen. My father has seen to it Houses Manwoody, Fowler, Blackmont, Qorgyle, and Allyrion will raise their banners and march on King’s Landing when you return,” Edric vowed.

“It is an honor to know House Dayne will be fighting with us in the wars to come,” Jon answered, slapping Edric on the shoulder before hugging a childhood friend. When they were not in the presence of outsiders, Jon was not a King who cared for customs of court.

“When we take back what is ours, I promise you will be named the Princess of Dorne,” Rhaenys promised Arianne, who finally took an open seat next to her at the table with her husband at her side.

“I do not wish to have my father killed,” Arianne replied with a nervous look on her face. It was an odd sight considering Arianne was the most confidant woman she had ever known in her life. Arianne grew up knowing she would rule Dorne and understood she was a great beauty at an early age. During her time in Dorne, Rhaenys saw her cousin use her features to her advantage and manipulate the boys who sought her favor. Now sitting before her was a nervous daughter, silently pleading for her father’s life. _He deserves death for betraying his own blood, but I will not become a kinslayer. That was Viserys._

“You have my word Ari,” she assured her cousin. “He will have to give up his title and you will rule Dorne. We will not have him killed.” _Not unless he has the courage to meet our armies in battle. No, he does not have the strength._

“If I may ask, my King, when do you plan to return? The Lannisters are weaker than they have ever been. The Faith now rule King’s Landing, Stannis is gathering an army, House Tyrell is ready to declare war to get Loras back, the Blackfish has retaken Riverrun, and your cousins rule the Vale and North,” Edric asked.

“Soon, Edric. We must deal with Tyrosh and Myr first. After the cities have bent the knee, we will sail for Pentos before returning to Dragonstone,” Jon informed him of their plans.

“How may I serve you, my King?” Edric asked. She could tell he was eager to prove himself a loyal and resourceful ally.

“You can start by informing me of the situation in Dorne on the morrow. I should like to know which houses are loyal to House Targaryen and those who look to oppose our reign,” Jon replied.

“My Lord husband can help lead the attacks on Myr and Tyrosh. He fought the Lannisters in the Riverlands and knows how to lead men,” Arianne spoke up, placing a gentle hand on Edric’s upper arm.

“You fought in the Riverlands? For who?” Jon asked. _No Dornish houses fought against the Lannisters._

“I was a squire for Lord Beric Dondarrion when Lord Stark sent him to bring the King’s justice to Ser Gregor Clegane. When the war began, Beric created the Brotherhood Without Banners to keep the smallfolk safe. Men from the Westerlands, North, and Riverlands preyed on the weak and we had to stop it as best we could. You can ask your cousin or Gendry Baratheon about it,” Edric stated.

“My cousin?” Jon asked with a puzzled face.

“Arya Stark,” Edric replied. _She made it out of King’s Landing?_

“Arya is alive?” Visenya asked with hope building in her eyes.

“She is. We found her, Gendry, and another boy who had escaped Harrenhal. I thought you knew. We figured she left to find you or return North to Winterfell when she snuck off. Gendry fought with us. I left for home months ago,” Edric told them. _Good, Arya is alive somewhere and Stannis’ heir still lives. He will be a valuable ally when the wars are over. If the Night King has not killed us all._

“Why didn’t you stop her? You should have kept her safe,” Allyria asked Edric. When she did so, Rhaenys picked up on the surprise in his face at his cousin’s reaction. His surprise soon disappeared, as if he realized in that moment why Allyria cared so deeply for Arya Stark.

“I am sorry, I didn’t…,” Edric tried to apologize.

“It is alright Edric, she is just upset. Arya is her sister,” Ashara told Edric after Allyria stormed off with Willas chasing after her.

“I didn’t know she planned to escape. We looked for her for days,” Edric answered with a saddened look.

“Did you have any idea of where she went?” Jon asked Edric.

“No, my King. She left in the night when we were preparing to raid a group of soldiers from the Westerlands. It was impossible to track her,” Edric answered. “She looked well, for a girl who had escaped Harrenhal and survived in the wilderness.”

“She is alive somewhere, I know it,” Lyanna said from across the table with confidence.

_I pray she is alive and well. I always liked Arya. She reminded me of my sister and Lyanna. Willful northern ladies who did not care for court nor the customs of the southern kingdoms._

 

“You have to see them. They are my entire world. There they are. Aegon! Nymeria! Come over here,” Rhaenys yelled to her oldest children across the grass opening in the gardens. They were chasing Shadow around with two Unsullied standing guard to protect them. When both of her children rushed over to her, she knelt down in the grass to pull them in for a hug. “Sweetlings, say hello to your aunt Arianne.”

“Aunt Ari!” Nymeria screamed, wrapping her little arms around Arianne, kneeling in the grass next to her after escaping her own grasp. Aegon followed Nymeria’s lead and hugged Arianne. “Mother says you live in a ship on a beach.”

Arianne threw her head back, letting out a laugh. “Yes, I live in palace in Sunspear that looks like a ship. It is where your grandmother Elia grew up as a princess of Dorne. I hope you come and visit me one day there,” Arianne said, pinching her daughter’s cheek.

“Can we go there mother?” Aegon pleaded with sad violet eyes.

“No Aegon. Not yet. We will one day, I promise,” she told her son. “Now go, run along and play. Shadow looks lonely over there.”

Staring at her children run back over to her direwolf, Arianne spoke up, “She is such a sweet little princess. She will be a great beauty one day. And Aegon, he looks just like…” Rhaenys knew what she was about to say before stopping herself. “I am sorry. I did not mean to…,” Arianne began to apologize.

“I know. He does look like him. I never noticed before how close my brothers looked alike until I had Aegon,” she said.

“Does he make you happy?” Arianne asked.

“Of course, he does. Why would you ask that?” she questioned her cousin.

“I knew how much you loved Egg, that is all. I am happy for you,” Arianne said, with a soothing hand on her shoulder.

“I still mourn for him, but I must admit this is the happiest I have been. I love Jon and I love my children. They are everything to me. You will know the feeling when you and Edric have children of your own. The rest of the world does not matter after they are born. It is just them and your husband that matter. Nothing else,” she tried to tell Arianne. _I sound like my mother now._

“And what is it like, having to share him with Daenerys and Visenya?” Arianne asked.

“Most will find it hard to believe, but I do not even think about it,” she answered. _Perhaps it is because I grew up with two mothers. It never seemed odd to me. Some would feel insecure with their husband having two other wives. Not me. I know Jon loves me._

“You never asked?” Arianne replied after a brief silence.

“Ask what?” Rhaenys wondered. _I am lost. What is she on about?_

“Joffrey. It wasn’t my choice. I swear it. I just wish I could have been the one to poison him. He was a cunt. I wish you were there to see him spitting up blood, turning purple, and choking to death,” Arianne said. _He deserved that and more. I am just glad Cersei was there to see every second of it. I will make sure she loses everything she holds dear. Tommen, Myrcella, everything._

“I know. I was relieved to hear you were allowed to leave King’s Landing. I feared they would force you to marry Tommen after,” she answered.

“I wonder who killed Joffrey. I know it wasn’t the Imp. I think it may have been Tywin. He couldn’t stand Joffrey and Tommen would be far easier to control. I had the poison ready to end it myself and then he started to choke on his wine. I wish I had paid attention to every face at that wedding,” Arianne went on. _Thank the gods she was beaten to it by Olenna._

“It was the Tyrells. Olenna killed Joffrey, with the help of Lord Baelish,” she told Arianne, ending the mystery.

“I never understood why Tywin Lannister trusted them. Margaery is married to Robb Stark and they tried to give Renly a crown,” Arianne muttered.

“He didn’t trust them, but he needed them. Their men and food. Olenna also promised Tywin if Robb Stark were to fall, they would find Margaery’s son a loyal Warden of the North,” Rhaenys told her. _We may never know, but was that Olenna’s original intention. Or was she delaying to see who would look more likely to win? Lannister or Targaryen?_

 

It was the coldest night since they had arrived in Lys as their family sat around the fire outside the manse. Rhaenys rested her head against Jon’s left shoulder under the blankets they had brought out. Valarr and Daenys were asleep in her lap with their tiny arms clenching to her for warmth. While their babes were asleep in the nursery, the oldest of the children were all asleep around the fire.

“They’ve worn themselves out,” Jon said in a hushed tone.

“I worried they would stay up all night,” she confessed. The children had recreated their own version of Aegon’s Conquest. They had several details wrong but it did not matter. _I will be sure to teach them the history of our House when they are of age._

“What will we tell them when we leave? They have never been apart,” Daenerys raised the question she had been thinking for days. The children had always been together every day of their lives.

“We will tell them the truth, they will see each other again,” Jon said. “And soon, they will get to see their grandmother.” _I miss her. She has been stuck on Dragonstone, alone._

“How are we going to deal with Dorne?” Visenya asked on Jon’s right side.

“Arianne and Edric can handle it on their own after the war is over. They do not need our help. The right houses are backing them and Arianne can bring more to their side. If my uncle proves difficult to move aside, I will fly to Sunspear myself,” she told her sister.

“We will fly to Sunspear,” Jon assured her. _Together. We are stronger together._

As she nuzzled into his side to get more comfortable, Rhaenys began to think of how close they were to returning home. Tempering her hopes, she reminded herself Myr or Tyrosh could pose greater problems than they appeared at the moment. _I am tired of Essos. I am ready to return home to Dragonstone and the Red Keep._

Staring through the flamelight, she saw Arya whispering to Nymeria, Dany, and Senya. The four princesses shared a close bond and were always together. Their brothers were asleep, tired from running around all day. Rhaenys looked forward to watching them become young princes and princesses of the Realm that would eventually have children of their own.

“We cannot fail them. Raising them will be more important than any decision we make as rulers. Their future and the future of our House depends on it. They need to love each other and be loyal to one another,” Visenya said. Rhaenys pulled Valarr and Daenys closer as she listened to her sister. It was a concern she had discussed with Daenerys and Visenya several times. Visenya worried about it the most. _She always grew upset when she read a new book covering the Dance of Dragons._

“Aye. That is why we will not send them to foster with any lords. Our sons and daughters will be raised together in the Red Keep until they are of age to wed,” Jon replied.

“I do not want any of them sent to the Citadel or Starry Sept or the Wall. They deserve better than that,” Daenerys implored with steely conviction. _I never understood why a parent would send their children away for good._

“The Citadel and Faith should pray they are allowed to exist under our reign,” her husband said with a hint of anger. She knew he held a deep mistrust for the Citadel due to Pycelle keeping the position of Grand Maester. Rhaenys knew he was loyal to House Lannister and her father managed to keep him at a distance. _Did the Citadel know as well? Was he a spy for them, Tywin, or both? They are just as power hungry as the lords of Westeros. The only difference being, they lack the courage to take direct power for themselves._

If it was Rhaenys’ decision alone, the High Septon and leaders of the Faith would lose any power they still held. In her mind, they have proven to be untrustworthy partners throughout history. _This High Sparrow in King’s Landing is the worst of them. I know what they would do to our children if they had their chance. The Sparrows will be put to the sword upon our return if Jaime does not kill them before then._

“Do you think we did the right thing, staying in Essos?” Jon asked with a sense of doubt after remaining silent for some time. “In the time we have been away, the Riverlands were torn apart, the Ironborn raided the North, Robb was left to fight on his own, and fanatics rule over King’s Landing.”

“We did the right thing for our people here,” Daenerys said. _We did, didn’t we?_ She continued, “As for Westeros, who can say? What if we lost? What matters is what we do when you sit the Iron Throne. We can start by rebuilding the Riverlands.”

“We certainly have the gold for it,” Rhaenys added. In their time in Essos, they had amassed great wealth from the enemies they had eliminated and the lands they now ruled. If she had to guess, House Targaryen was now wealthier than any family in history. _I am sure Visenya would dispute the matter and name some great House from Valyria._

“Aye, we can help them rebuild, but the Riverlords will expect more. They deserve more. The North will forgive our absence, but House Tully and the rest have suffered the worst of it. When the wars are over, they must be given some preferential treatment for a time until old wounds heal,” Jon said. _Will they ever heal? Our first royal progress should be in the Riverlands. Let them see the dragons to remind them of our strength. Then we can soften the hearts of some lords with gracious gifts upon our visits._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is Myr & Tyrosh. POVs from Visenya, Jon, Daenerys, & Rhaenys.


	31. Myr & Tyrosh

**303 AC**

**Visenya Targaryen**

Now laying her eyes upon Tyrosh, Visenya finally found a city that lived up to its reputation and description from the books she had read. _At least from the outside._ Tyrosh was said to be a fortress city established as an outpost by the Valyrian Freehold and it looked it. Its high walls and place along the seas made it easy to defend against opponents without dragons. _Time has made them weak. Now they rely on sellswords and hold too many slaves in their city._

Several of their Unsullied had taken them to a small rocky island off the coast of Tyrosh so they could fly Drogon and Silverclaw into battle. From their spot atop a large rock, they watched their fleet approach the city that was aware of the impending attack. It was not hard to figure out their ships vastly outnumbered the Tyroshi navy that depended on sellsails to add to its strength. Before they had even set sail from Lys, several sellsails arrived to warn them of Tyrosh’s defenses and promised to fight for them.

Along the journey up the Narrow Sea, several more sellsails joined them. Just when she started to question the Spider, the Tyroshi ships sailing toward their fleet swung to the west, leaving the city defenseless at sea. Varys claimed he had influenced the right sea captains and promised them a place in Tyrosh’s new future. _What men want to die for a hopeless cause?_

“That’s disappointing. Part of me wished to see Varys proven wrong,” Daenerys jested, making her let out a small laugh. Visenya knew they would still face stiff opposition from the sellswords occupying the high walls defending the city and she did her best to keep her concentration on what they had discussed with Jon about how to attack the city.

“Remember, only short passes. Do not stay around long enough for some lucky archer looking to be a hero,” she reminded Daenerys.

“Why are you giving me that look?” Daenerys questioned, tilting her head as if Visenya sounded like a fool at court.

“Because I know you. Sometimes you let your temper get the best of you and you take risks. In Volantis, I saw you risk being hit by arrows several times,” she told her, earning a stern look from Daenerys.

“I will look out for myself, you just make sure to stay off the ground. Just because you wield a Valyrian steel sword does not mean you need to use it,” Daenerys replied. _Damn her!_ Knowing she did not have a response, Daenerys looked her up and down before pulling her in for a tight hug. “Stay safe up there,” she whispered in her ear.

“You as well,” she replied, letting her go. Daenerys walked off to go to Drogon who was perched on another rock nearby. As she looked behind, she caught Silverclaw still circling the small island with Darkskye. Her dragon seemed to know it was time and began the descent to the rocky ground before her.

Once her silver-scaled dragon was on the ground, Visenya climbed her loyal companion, ready to reclaim a city that used to belong to the Valyrians of old. _Tyrosh shall be ruled by Valyrians again. By House Targaryen._ Silverclaw did not even wait for the order and took to the sky over the Narrow Sea, taking her above their fleet. Glancing to the south, she spotted _The Sea Dragon_ , surrounded by their best ships since it held their children.

A battle was not a time to be caught up thinking about one’s family and Visenya forced herself to look away and concentrate on the city fighting to keep them out. Flying ahead of their fleet that was nearly ashore, Visenya took up a position beside Daenerys on Drogon. Nodding to each other, she knew the time was now.

Giving Silverclaw the signal, her dragon continued to fly straight over the awe-struck faces of the sellswords manning the walls. She saw them turn their heads, following the path they traced across the sky. _Did they not believe the stories of our dragons? I guess I cannot blame them. Some things are too great to be considered true._

Once over the city, they banked east toward the port of Tyrosh to find it emptied, with few ships tied up. Word was spreading across Essos and she knew many sea captains would do their best to avoid seeing their ships burned. While it was an easy target, they did not attack the port with knowledge they needed to rule this city. Keeping the city alive and in order in the aftermath relied on maintaining an open port that was the lifeline of Tyrosh.

Seeing that the walls around the port were heavily defended, Visenya smiled at the wasted effort. They had attacked the port gates of Volantis and Lys, but it was not their intention for Tyrosh. Five thousand of their men from Dragonstone were already on the island, now marching on the northern wall of Tyrosh.

Twisting their dragons in the sky, she turned west toward the wall that would be approached by their Unsullied. It was far away, but Visenya could make out nearly a hundred of their ships near shore with countless boats approaching with Unsullied. The closer they flew to the city’s western edge, the easier it was to see several thousand of their men were already marching on the walls.

The Tyroshi and hired sellswords were so concerned with the approaching army, they forgot about the dragons in the sky. Knowing they could not let this chance slip away, Visenya descended upon the unsuspecting men atop the walls, banking to the left while Daenerys took the parapets above the gate before moving to the right.

“Dracarys!” she screamed, causing Silverclaw to burn the men defending the wall. Looking back at the path of fire left by her dragon, countless burning bodies laid strewn across the parapets engulfed in flame. It was not pleasant but this was war and most of the men fought for gold, not for a city they called home. _Even if they did, Tyrosh is a slave city. They will find it hard to earn my mercy._

Rising back in the air, Silverclaw flew over the fields filled with their men to see Viserion and Vyraxes burning down the gate for their soldiers to enter. It did not take them long before both dragons took to the sky for the Unsullied to pour through the demolished gate.

Drogon flew right past her in the sky with Daenerys pointing to the north and Visenya pushed Silverclaw on to aid their other force that was waiting to take the city. The flight to the northern gate was a short one and Visenya watched Daenerys swing out from the city above their army before turning back toward the gate. Knowing the role she needed to play, Visenya sent her dragon diving through the air before levelling out to burn all the men underneath. As she burned everything above the gate, Daenerys landed Drogon who destroyed the gate in a matter of seconds before escaping to the safety of the sky.

Flying in circles above, she watched as their knights and men at arms cut down the sellswords with ease. Their men were better trained, carried finer arms and armor, were battle tested, and backed by the strength of dragonfire. Visenya wondered why some were foolish enough to think they would live to spend the coin they earned fighting. _This battle was over before it began._

With smoke rising below and plumes drifting across the sky above the western walls, Visenya knew there was one final point of attack left for them. Daenerys followed her toward the port of Tyrosh now filled with their navy. Unsullied and Targaryen soldiers were jumping off their ships to attack the only remaining gate. They did not even get a chance to attack the walls since Rhaegal and Darkskye arrived before they had.

All she could do was watch as the two dragons unleashed their fury upon enemies carrying spears and crossbows who tried their best to fend off the attack. Tyrosh was defeated in a shorter time than it took for her to climb the great pyramid of Meereen. There was still fighting to be done within the city, but the battle was all but over. Claiming the city and raising the Targaryen sigil over its walls was only a formality.

 

“You did well my friend,” she told her loyal dragon while moving her hand across its snout in the shadow of the walls of Tyrosh. The dragons were getting larger every year and it was unthinkable that it was only in Qarth she was able to hold Silverclaw in her arms. _Nothing can hold her now. Not even the largest of our ships._

“You told me this city would be far more difficult to conquer than Volantis,” she heard Daenerys approaching from behind. Turning her head, she saw her walking with Ser Oswell and several of their guard in tow.

“It should have been. It was a military outpost for the Freehold. I was wrong. I overestimated the Tyroshi’s will to fight. I suppose that happens when you rely on sellswords to do your fighting,” she said, shaking her head, knowing she was wrong.

“Did our men fight well Ser Oswell?” she asked their Kingsguard who had just come back from the fighting within the walls of the city.

“They did your Grace. The fighting in Volantis and Meereen was harder,” Oswell Whent answered. Once he finished, she saw him taking in their surrounding out of habit to ensure their safety and wellbeing. She thought to leave him with their children aboard _The_ _Sea Dragon_ , but thought otherwise and ordered him to lead the Targaryen soldiers attacking the northern gate.

“Nevertheless, see to it the men get their rest and plenty of ale before the night is over,” Daenerys ordered.

“Your Graces!” she heard Tyrion announce himself, stopping Oswell from acknowledging Daenerys’ command. She found Tyrion walking with Varys and Ser Jorah Mormont. It was still difficult, seeing Longclaw on Jorah’s sword belt and not Jon’s, even if it was the sword of House Mormont. “It would be better if you avoided battles for the time being. This city could have been taken without you risking your lives.”

Rolling her eyes, she was about to let him know what she thought until Daenerys beat her to it. “We have discussed this. We are not the kind of Queens who will let the men who fight for us stand alone. Why should anyone follow us if we are too afraid to fly our dragons into battle? I will hear no more of this,” Daenerys replied with eyes that could burn.

“Lord Varys, see to it your friends here help keep the peace in Tyrosh. Let them and any who should think to oppose us know what happened to the slavers of Meereen,” she told the Spider who gave a slight bow and turned to carry out their will.

“Ser Jorah, when Grey Worm returns, make sure to work with him to find a suitable manse for our family to reside,” Daenerys told their loyal knight and advisor.

“Your Grace,” he replied and left them with Tyrion Lannister.

“You wanted to prove yourself? Prove yourself here, in Tyrosh. It should be far easier than King’s Landing, that much is certain,” Daenerys proclaimed.

“Thank you, your Grace,” Tyrion replied, doing well to hold back the grin under his beard.

“Do your best to find someone we can leave here to rule in our name without betraying us or returning the slaves to their chains,” Daenerys let him know of their wishes.

With Tyrion gone, Visenya turned her attention to the ships tying up in the port. She was eager to see her children running down the dock with their direwolves, causing Doreah and the other handmaidens a fit. What hurt was the knowledge that she would not see Jon or Rhaenys this night or the ones after. They were sailing for Myr, off to take the city with their khalasar waiting for them.

_I will have to wait for him again. It will not be as long as our time apart years ago, but that was before I had him. Can I wait that long? I have to. My family here needs me. I have responsibilities as a Queen and ruler of Tyrosh. I shall see Jon when we meet in Pentos._

 

 

**Jon Targaryen**

The fires of the Dothraki camp stretched across the fields surrounding Myr must have been an intimidating sight for the men defending the city. Several smaller sellsword companies had already fled to their side before he and Rhaenys had even arrived. Once their dragons were seen above the city, more abandoned their posts.

One of the sellswords to enter their camp was the leader of the Windblown, a sellsword company with a fearsome reputation in Essos. Their leader was nicknamed the Tattered Prince and hailed from Pentos. Jon trusted the sellsword less than Daario Naharis. The man started to negotiate the terms of his service, believing he had leverage over them. _If we wanted, we could have burned Myr to the ground in mere hours. We do not need the Windblown to take the city._

Sitting on his destrier, keeping a watchful eye on the eastern gate of Myr, Jon heard hooves hitting the ground behind him. He turned his head to find Rhaenys riding her mare to his side with Ser Barristan beside her. “I do not trust him. He thinks himself a prince. The gold we promised the Windblown will not be enough for him,” Rhaenys said. _She is not wrong. I couldn’t believe it when he first asked for Pentos._

“No, it will not. We will have to keep an eye on him and keep his men at a distance,” Jon replied, still skeptical of where the Windblown truly stood.

“Perhaps we should have just sacked the city when we arrived. Its walls are not so high and its gates cannot protect it from dragonfire,” Rhaenys said.

“That would be the quickest way to do it, but we can take Myr without so much bloodshed. When the gates open, our khalasar will take the city within the hour,” he cautioned her from getting impatient.

“The Lady Melisandre said there are priests in the city who will rally the slaves to our side,” Rhaenys added. _Lord Davos will no doubt voice his disapproval of trusting the red woman and her fire god. He is right, I do not trust her or Kinvara, but their influence in Essos needs to be respected. I cannot wage a war against the very people who welcomed our rule._ Jon knew moving against the followers of R’hllor without provocation could send Qohor, Meereen, and Volantis into immediate chaos. It would be years before they could work to minimize the power held by the Red Temple of Volantis.

“Where are Ghost and Shadow?” he asked, not having seen the direwolves for several hours.

“With my mother and Arianne, protecting our children,” Rhaenys answered.

“Good, they will be of no use in this fight,” he told her, knowing he would not risk their direwolves in the sacking of a city or on a battlefield against a prepared enemy.

“My King, the gate,” Edric Dayne gathered his attention, pointing toward the gate he was previously observing. Above the city gate, he could see a man waving a torch and two other torches being thrown over the walls on either side of the entrance to Myr. _The gates are open. If the Windblown are setting a trap, they will find it hard to collect their gold when they are burnt to ashes._

“Rakharo! Kovarro! Send the khalasar into the city!” he yelled in Dothraki to his bloodriders awaiting his command on their horses behind him. His eyes were still locked onto the walls of Myr, looking for any signs of treachery.

After receiving the order, his bloodriders rode off, bringing thousands of waiting Dothraki with them toward the open gate of Myr. He wanted the attack to be a surprise but that was not entirely the way of the Dothraki. Even if they kept their screams to a minimum, the sound of tens of thousands of horses running across the field surely had to wake up the people of Myr.

As the first riders began to disappear through the gate, Jon turned to speak with Rhaenys only to find her not at his side. Wondering where she went, he gently pulled on the reigns of his destrier and searched for his Queen. He thought she may have left for their tent until his eyes finally caught her speaking to Qhono alone. One of their bloodriders not riding off at the front of the khalasar seemed odd, but he pushed his concern aside. _Rhaenys must be reiterating their wishes for how the peace will be kept in Myr._

“What was that about?” he asked when she finally returned to his side after catching him observing the interaction from afar.

“Oh, nothing. Just tying up loose ends and reminding our Dothraki there will be no raping or pillaging in a city we rule,” she answered. As he stared at her face, partially illuminated by the torch held by Ser Arthur, he picked up on her restlessness. “That is it, I am flying Myrax.”

“You do not need to risk yourself, the battle is won. They do not have the men,” he tried to dissuade her. It was a dark night and he knew she would not be able to see any arrows or bolts coming her way.

“I will be fine. I will stay high above the city and watch. I cannot stay on the ground any longer just waiting here. If I see something going wrong, I will fly back here and let you know,” she defended herself. Jon could not help but grimace with worry until she leaned in to capture his lips. _She always knows how to get what she wants._

The moment she released his lips, she turned her mare and rode off to the rear of the camp where their dragons had made a lair. Ser Barristan followed behind her with several of their household guard. “Your Grace, if I may, give me leave and I will lead a company of men to take the manses belonging to the magisters who rule this city,” Edric asked as their Dothraki were still riding into Myr.

“Aye, you have my leave,” he told his old friend. As Edric nodded his head and prepared to ride off, Jon raised his hand to stop him. “Edric, do not do anything stupid. I need men loyal to me I can rely upon in Westeros. Starfall needs its future lord and Arianne needs her husband.”

“Do not worry about me, my King. I have been in more dangerous situations than this,” Edric countered before riding off. Jon had many long discussions about their journeys that led them here on the ship from Lys. He wanted to hear the stories his friend had to tell from the Riverlands and wanted to gather as much information as possible. From Edric, he was able to glean information about the struggles of the smallfolk and what they thought of the wars waged by the lords of Westeros. But more than anything, he wanted to hear about Arya. How she was, what she looked like, and if she was still the same girl he remembered from Winterfell.

 

The sun was now above the horizon, turning the sky from a pink shade to its natural blue color. Rhaenys was flying over the city again with Kios and Moonlight flying close behind. Jon’s own dragons were still at the edge of the camp, with only Stormfyre flying above, ready to attack any foes brave enough to attack them while the majority of their army was behind the walls of Myr.

“Ser Arthur, its time,” he told the Sword of the Morning. Doing his duty, Arthur began ordering their men to ready their horses and prepare to enter the city.

“My King, I wouldn’t be doing my duty if I did not warn you of waiting until we receive word the city is fully under your control,” Davos cautioned. It was something little, but that is why Jon named Davos Seaworth Hand to the King. He was loyal and honest man who came from nothing and told the hard truths. He could still remember when he first met the man on a royal progress through the Stormlands as a boy. Davos let him climb on one of his ships and was honest about his exploits in the short rebellion. He was just a boy, but he noticed Davos was not like the others. Everywhere he went, Lords boasted of great deeds and valiant acts during battles. Davos told him he was shit with a sword and was a simple smuggler, who did not fight in any battles.

“You have seen the Dothraki Davos. Trust me, I will be safe. And should any brave man be lucky enough to strike me down with an arrow, I pray for Myr. Nothing will stop Rhaenys’ wrath,” he promised his Hand.

Riding through the gate opened to their army just hours before, Jon saw corpses strewn across the ground. Most of the men were unidentifiable sellswords and Myrmen, but he did recognize some of the dead as members of the Windblown. It was not until they made it further down the street that he found the Tattered Prince lying in a pool of his own blood with his skull opened at the back. He was cut down by a Dothraki arakh. _Rhaenys._

Jon shook his head in frustration, but said nothing. There wasn’t anything he could do about it now, but hope Rhaenys knew what she was doing and Qhono manages to kill any of the remaining sellswords from the Windblown. They did not need rumors spreading of the killing of men who aided in their conquest of Myr. _The Dothraki will say nothing. Surely the chaos from battle will mask this plot._

“Do not worry, she did the right thing. He was not to be trusted,” Arthur Dayne said quietly so no others could hear. “He thought too highly of himself to continue to serve as a sellsword captain in your employ.”

“Aye,” was all he could say. It was ugly business, but part of him accepted it, knowing a King had to eliminate enemies without provocation. In this case, it was Rhaenys who acted and did what needed to be done. _It does not make it right nor honorable._

Much like the cities they conquered over the past few years, the Myrish hid in their homes in the hours after seeing their city captured. Occasionally, Jon would see people standing along the street outside homes and shops, trying to get a glimpse of their new ruler. The followers of the Lord of Light were not so shy and did not fear the conquering army. Their temple near the center of Myr was impressive, but paled in comparison to the Red Temple of Volantis.

Dothraki warriors filled the streets, guarding every corner, ensuring thieves and other criminals did not take advantage of the situation. After travelling through one of the markets, Jon reminded himself to purchase Myrish rugs for his Queens when time allowed. The talents of the Myrish craftsmen and women reminded him of Qohorik markets that impressed Daenerys years ago.

It must have taken two hours of riding through the streets of Myr, until they came upon the manses of the wealthy Myrish magisters who ruled the city. Targaryen and Dayne banners could be seen ahead, held by Westerosi under the command of Edric Dayne. As they began to pass the knights and men at arms from Westeros, Jon saw his friend approach with a smile on his face.

“They were not hard to find,” Edric said, glancing back at dozens of men being escorted in chains at spearpoint by Targaryen soldiers. “I am unsure if we found them all, but we took prisoners from every manse. The men made sure to clear out the largest one for you, my King.”

“Thank you Edric. Aggo, gather two hundred men and return to the camp to retrieve Queen Elia and Princess Arianne. Make sure they are safe and have the men do as Ser Barristan commands,” he shifted to the Dothraki tongue, trusting in one of his most loyal riders. Shifting his attention back to Edric, he continued, “Was the fighting tough?”

“No, you know these Essosi traders better than I. It was mostly slave soldiers guarding them. More than half fled. Some were fool enough to try and attack us,” Edric answered honestly. _Essos has been fortunate the Dothraki love the Great Grass Sea and shun the cities. A determined Khal could have conquered these cities with half the men._

“Aye. They got what they paid for. Slaves make for poor soldiers,” he replied. _Except for the Unsullied._

 

Jon was leaning against a peach tree in the gardens of their new manse with his arms crossed, watching Aegon and Nymeria run around pretending to be flying dragons. Arianne was sitting in the grass holding his daughter, Princess Ashara. The children were quick to grow attached to Arianne Martell. He was happy to know they could count at least one more Martell as family besides Elia.

Watching the children play, he tried to imagine a future where they would be close to their Dornish cousins. House Targaryen needed Dorne back in the fold and that would begin with their close ties to Arianne Martell and Edric Dayne. It had not been discussed for it would be years from now, but Jon intended to foster at least one son from Edric in the Red Keep.

His thoughts were interrupted by Rhaenys sliding her small hand across his back while leaning into his side. “Why did you keep it from me? Did you think I would not find out?” he questioned her. It was not anger he felt. He was disappointed she did not feel she could confide in him her plans for the Windblown.

“Because I know you, my love. You would do the honorable thing and keep to the agreement. You spent too many years in Winterfell. You are a fool sometimes, but you are my fool. It is why I love you. I should have told you, but it needed to be done,” Rhaenys said with some remorse from what he could tell.

Tearing his eyes from the children, he found Rhaenys’ dark violet eyes staring into his. His gaze wandered from her eyes to her plump lips, to her breasts that were begging for his attention under her revealing Essosi dress that complimented her figure. Falling back into the tree, he pulled Rhaenys flush against his front and slid down to the ground with her in his lap.

With her small, soft hands holding his neck, he ran his hand through a tendril of hair that had escaped her intricate braids. “We cannot hide things from each other. We need to be honest and work together,” he told her. He wanted to get his point across but began to regret it when he saw how upset she was regarding the matter.

“I know,” she whispered, leaning her brow against his while he held her tight, fearing to let go of her warmth. “Are you going wear it like this forever?”

“What do you mean?” he questioned. _Black is my color. I did not know she had a problem with my clothes until now._ Rhaenys then began to run her hands through his pulled back hair and he began to understand.

“This, your hair. I always liked it when it was free. Now I can no longer grab your raven curls and pull you in for a kiss,” she replied, tasting his lips for a brief second.

“Aye. I was tired of it getting in the way. It was either this and cutting it short like Arthur,” he informed her.

“Do that and I will find us a new King. Consider yourself lucky Dany is not here to see this. You say I have the temper?” she said before letting out a huff. “When she sees you like this, pray Drogon does not come down to burn you.”

“Drogon likes me,” he replied, earning a laugh from Rhaenys. He loved to see her happy and smiling. When he found out what had happened to his brother, he feared he would never see her smile again. It would have been a great shame to see her sad. Rhaenys was always the life of the court and the center of attention at feasts. _I hate the damn things, but I always liked seeing how much joy they brought her._

“He does not like you that much to defy his mother,” Rhaenys countered, rolling her hips slightly against his, driving him mad. “What do you think they are doing right now?”

“Who can say? Ruling Tyrosh? Flying over the Narrow Sea to get away from it all?” he guessed, trying not to let his thoughts linger on his feelings regarding their absence. _When the wars are done, we will not be parted again. I swear it._

“Well, we will have to make do without them,” Rhaenys said as she pulled his hand to her chest, sliding it underneath to feel her breasts. It was not enough for her and he lost all self-control as she withdrew his hand, pulling it down to the bottom of her dress. She did not even bother to look around as she guided his hand to her wet lips. _Seven hells Rhaenys!_

Jon looked around to make sure no one was close nor paying attention to what their Queen was doing. Her body was begging for him and he was very close to being tempted into seeing to her needs. With all his strength, he pulled is hand back, not wanting them caught in some act, bringing her dishonor.

“No?” she asked in a devious voice while pouting her lips.

“No, not here. Not now,” he replied, fighting the compulsion to throw her against another tree in the gardens and take her there.

“Like I said, my honorable fool,” she teased him, running her hand over his cock trying break out of his breeches while biting his bottom lip. Knowing she had accomplished her goal and stirred his lust for her, she retreated and left him there, regretting the missed opportunity to please her.

 

 

**Daenerys Targaryen**

Tyrion Lannister was going on about the reopening of Tyrosh’s port and the continuation of trade with Lys, Volantis, and the Bay of Dragons. She was only half paying attention as he listed off the numbers and taxes being collected. Daenerys found herself staring out the window of the tower at the corner of the grand manse they called home in Tyrosh. _It is not a home with half our family in Myr. Jon is home. Rhaenys, the children, and Elia are home._

She did not mind Tyrion, but she wished Ashara Dayne and Allyria were still here with them. They were quite good at sorting out taxation issues and did not constantly pester her or Visenya with updates on changes they had made. They just did it because they trusted them. _They are family. Perhaps I should be glad Tyrion does not think he has such freedoms with his power._

“Salladhor Saan and his pirates are currently clearing out the stepstones,” Varys spoke up, catching her attention. She was resistant to the idea of trusting a pirate with such a task considering the history of the Stepstones. It was her belief the man was using them to build his own thiefdom in the name of House Targaryen. Davos vouched for the captain and Jon trusted Davos Seaworth, so Salladhor Saan was given his chance. _Salladhor Saan, Lord of the Stepstones. Monford Velaryon will not be pleased._ “He also promised us his ships and men for the attack on King’s Landing. His demands were far fetched but we managed to bring down the price should we need his ships.”

“What was his price?” she asked.

“Do not concern yourself with the demands of a pirate, your Grace. Words not meant to be heard by a Queen,” Ser Jorah Mormont tried to shift the subject.

“No, I think I should like to hear what he had to say,” she said, raising an eyebrow, expecting Varys to spill what he had heard.

“He wanted to fuck the Queen, I think is what he said. Cersei. I am not sure he understands she is not the Queen,” Varys confessed, earning her laughter. _I should like to meet this pirate one day. He is bold, I will give him that._

“No, she is Queen in all but name,” Visenya interjected. _I will see these Sparrows burn, but I must say it would have been nice to see Cersei humiliated in front of all of King’s Landing. She deserves worse._ The news from across the Narrow Sea reminded her the smallfolk were a fickle bunch. They worshipped her brother until they didn’t. They screamed for Ned Stark’s head and now they follow religious zealots bent on grabbing the power of the Iron Throne. _I will try to make their lives better, but I will never trust them. That city has its way of making people turn to evil._

“My birds have also sung troubling songs from King’s Landing regarding Myrcella Baratheon,” Varys added. Daenerys looked to him for more details regarding his news. “I am afraid Jaime Lannister returned to King’s Landing with the poor girl’s body. Poisoned by Oberyn Martell’s daughters, or Ellaria Sand. The details differ depending on the source.”

“Myrcella is dead?” Tyrion asked with a saddened look. He was crushed and it was apparent for all to see. Daenerys knew he loved his sister’s children. _Well, two of them._ Tyrion sank into his chair, not even touching his Dornish wine.

“I am sorry. Myrcella was a sweet girl. She did not deserve it,” she tried to comfort him. She truly felt sorry for him, but she also knew it benefited their cause. The alliance between House Martell and House Lannister was already beginning to crack. _Could Doran really continue on with the alliance? Cersei will not forget, nor forgive._ Myrcella’s death also had the benefit of removing another person who could lay claim to the Iron Throne.

The Iron Throne belonged to her family, but by means of treachery and deceit, Joffrey claimed it for his own. Since that day, any of his heirs could claim it as their own and pose a threat, real or not, to her son. _Tommen is all that is left. He has sat upon the throne. He cannot live._

“Do you carry more news from Westeros?” Visenya asked, trying to shift the conversation away from the murder of Myrcella. Daenerys could see Visenya felt uncomfortable with Tyrion brooding over the death of his niece.

“I do, your Grace. There is banditry throughout the Riverlands. The Frey’s are laying siege to Riverrun, though my little birds say they are at a stalemate. Balon Greyjoy is dead. There has been no word of who will take his place. Most believe it to be Yara Greyjoy. Harrold Arryn is preparing the knights of the Vale for war. And the Iron Bank has sent emissaries to King’s Landing. Either they are looking to collect or lend the Crown more gold,” Varys informed them.

“Perhaps we should deal with them sooner than intended,” Visenya suggested.

“No, we are this close to sailing home. The Iron Bank can wait. It isn’t going anywhere,” she replied, wondering why the Braavosi continued to lend to their foes who would never be able to repay their debts. _What do they know that we do not? My brother always said they stuck to numbers and arithmetic. They did not gamble and did not lose money._

“Grey Worm, when do you expect the city watch to be trained and ready to protect Tyrosh without our army?” she asked the commander of their Unsullied, seated next to Missandei.

“Thirty days my Queen. The Unsullied will have them ready to fight and hold the city for you,” Grey Worm answered. She believed him. He had never failed them and never promised anything his men could not achieve.

“It’s settled then, we depart for Pentos in a moon. Ser Jorah, let the sea captains know of our plans five days before our departure. We do not want word spreading before we leave,” she replied. Turning to Lord Varys, she continued, “And make sure the magisters that have bent the knee are true to their word. I do not want a Tyroshi rebellion on our hands the moment we set foot in Pentos.”

“It will be done my Queen,” Varys said, bowing he his head. Realizing they were all dismissed, their men stood from the seats around their council table and left the room. Missandei stayed behind when she noticed Daenerys give her a look, telling her she did not need to leave with the others.

“What do you think about it, my friend?” she asked Missandei.

“What I think?” Missandei asked, not understanding her question.

“What do you think about us leaving? Do you think the city will hold itself together? We left Volantis and Lys in the hands of men who knew how to rule. We have no such men in Tyrosh. Do you think the freed slaves and merchants we have placed on the council can keep the city together?” she asked for Missandei’s opinion. Daenerys trusted her instincts when it came to dealing with those who had lived their entire lives in chains. _I have only spent a few years in Essos around slavery. Missandei had known it her entire life. She can read these people better than I._

“I trust the men chosen to represent the people on the council. They remind me of several of the elders from Meereen. At least here in Tyrosh, there are no Harpies and the leading magisters are all dead. The Tyroshi knew before you arrived what you had accomplished in the Bay of Dragons and Volantis. I do not expect a rebellion any time soon. All their fighting men died and those living who would oppose you no longer have the coin to pay for a sellsword company,” Missandei gave her opinion.

“Missandei, what do you plan to do when we have taken our throne and the wars are over? Do you plan to return home? Or create a home for yourself with Grey Worm?” Visenya asked.

“My home is wherever he is, your Grace. We want to continue to serve you. You are the Queens we chose. It does not matter if that is on Dragonstone, King’s Landing, or Summerhall,” their friend responded.

“You will always have a place in our court and around our hearth,” Daenerys told her, hoping Missandei knew how much they cared for her friendship.

 

There was only one small candle left flickering in their bedchambers on the table next to Visenya’s side of the bed. Daenerys caught herself staring at the faltering flame until Visenya turned back over. Daenerys could tell she was restless, unable to sleep much like herself. It felt out of place for them, not having Jon or Rhaenys there.

“Cannot sleep?” she whispered, seeing Visenya was wide awake with not a hint of sleep in her amethyst eyes.

“You know what it feels like. I thought I could bare it, having waited a year to be with him. But now? It feels like part of me has been stolen away. Jon and Rhaenys should be here. All our children should be here,” Visenya admitted, readjusting her silk covered pillow under her head.

“It was not as long, but now you know how I felt when you flew to the Wall. Rhaenys and I were miserable at night. This is the longest I have ever been parted from him since we were babes. I cannot remember a time he was not in my life,” Daenerys confessed.

Just talking about him made her think about everything she loved about Jon. It was not just his comely face, or his perfect raven curls she would run her hands through, or his scratchy beard that would tingle her skin when he gave her body attention. It was the smile he held only for her. Even the broody face he shared with the rest of the world, she loved. It was his stubbornness and honor that sometimes drove her mad that made her love him. She loved his smell. It reminded her of the North and the Wolfswood. She could hear his husky Northern voice whispering in her ear now, telling her how much she meant to him.

Her thoughts of Jon were disturbed by the sound of feet shuffling across the stone floors toward their bedchamber. It was a familiar sound that they had expected. Every night since they had arrived in Tyrosh, their eldest children managed to sneak their way down the corridor to the bed she shared with Visenya.

“Come here, sweetlings,” Visenya cooed.

In an instant, Daenerys felt Rhaegar, Arya, Eddard, and Senya jumping onto the bed. Rhaegar and Arya appeared wide awake, staying at the end of the bed whispering to each other while their brother and sister crawled on top of her, trying to get under the covers to get warm. Daenerys made sure to pull them close to keep her warm.

Across from her, she could see Visenya running her hands through Jon and Dany’s hair. This had become a nightly occurrence that was tolerated with Jon and Rhaenys away in Myr. Glancing back to the edge of the bed, she could tell Rhaegar was only here to be with Arya. He was an independent child who was not scared of the dark and did not need to be held at night. Her eldest daughter liked to create adventures whenever she could and visiting her bedchamber in Tyrosh every night was one of them. That meant bringing Rhaegar along.

“Mother, can you tell us the kraken story?” Jon asked Visenya, already sounding half asleep.

“Again?” Visenya questioned, causing her son to nod his head while Dany was already asleep beside him.

“Fine, my son. Not long ago, there was an evil kraken who came from an island called Pyke. He was a mean creature who hated everyone. One day, he decided to attack the lions who lived by the sea. And the lions were unable to fight the kraken off by themselves, so they called for help. A pack of direwolves, stags, fish, and falcons came to help. But that would not be enough against the kraken who knew the sea better than them all. They needed a dragon. When the dragon came to lead them all, they swam and flew across the sea to the kraken’s island. The kraken was a good fighter in the water, but he had no friends and anyone without friends cannot stand alone. Eventually the kraken was chased out of the sea onto his island. He hid in his castle, doing his best to be evil and fight the dragon and his friends. After battling for several days, the dragon burned down the krakens gate and the wolves leaped over the walls with the lions. Together, they beat the kraken and made him promise never to fight again,” Visenya told the story, causing the children to all fall asleep. Even Arya and Rhaegar were asleep against her legs.

“They like that one,” she whispered so as not to wake the sleeping children.

“It is what my mother told me when Father returned from the Iron Islands. I was a bit older, so there were more details. I like to keep it simple for them. I always liked to hear Father and Jaime go on about Thoros of Myr carrying his flaming sword,” Visenya admitted.

“You know he was drunk through the entire battle. He doesn’t remember any of it,” Daenerys told Visenya, who let out a huff, shaking her head. _I quite liked Thoros. Drinking and talking were what he was good at. He made for a poor priest._

“That saddens me, but I am not surprised. He was a good swordsman and loyal to Father. I wonder where he is now,” Visenya replied. _Likely dead. Everyone else is._

“I miss him,” she said, thinking of how her brother never got the chance to see one of his grandchildren.

“Thoros?” Visenya asked, giving her a strange look.

“No, Rhaegar,” she corrected her.

“I sometimes see him in my dreams. He is chasing Jon and Dany around Aegon’s garden. Other times he is holding Brandon or Sansa in his arms. Once, I dreamed he was flying with us in the sky over the Blackwater. It makes me worry for Jon. Are the men of our family cursed?” Visenya whispered. _No, just unlucky to live with a kinslayer who inherited my father’s evil._

“Do not worry about Jon. Rhaenys will make sure he does nothing foolish,” she replied, closing her own eyes with her children snuggled against her.

 

 

**Rhaenys Targaryen**

Eyes fluttering open, Rhaenys woke to the sound of Kios and Moonlight screeching outside the windows of their chambers. In the two moons they had spent in Myr, it can become a ritual for their dragons to take to the sky in the early morning as the sun began to peak over the eastern horizon. She could not explain it, but she believed their dragons were not enjoying the city of Myr. _Is it the small lair they had built in the gardens or something else?_

From the shade of blue painted across the sky, she could tell there was still time to sleep before a long day of strenuous meetings that required her attention. After closing her eyes and nearly falling asleep, she felt Jon’s hard cock press against her ass. She thought she could ignore it, but her body could no longer ignore the temptation. _There is no point in trying to fall asleep now._

With his left arm still firmly holding her close against his front, Rhaenys shifted back into his embrace in their bed. Rocking her hips against his member, she finally heard him whisper something she failed to understand. Jon’s hand began to slide from her stomach to one of her breasts, kneading her already hard nipple between his thumb and finger.

“How long have you been awake?” he whispered into her ear, teasing her breasts as only he knew how.

“Not long,” she answered, with her voice beginning to waver as his hand continued to fondle her breast while his other hand found its way between her legs. His fingers were beginning to move along her folds, tempting her to spread her leg so he could move further. “Don’t stop, keep going,” she mumbled in Valyrian.

Spreading her legs seemed to encourage him, leading to Jon pushing her over on her stomach and spreading her legs further while she got on her knees. Moaning into her pillow and clenching their silk sheets with her hands, Rhaenys found herself being pushed to her peak. He was circling her clit with his fingers before finally getting his taste.

Jon’s tongue started exploring the edges of her lips for some time until she finally felt him plunge into her cunt. Feeling her walls begin to close as his tongue went from her folds to her nub, she tried to keep her strength as her legs went limp. Crying into her pillow with tears of ecstasy, she wanted to thank the gods if they existed for giving her him. As she came for him, he continued lapping her folds, not letting any of her juices escape his tongue.

As she was recovering from what he had done to her, she basked in her pleasure while he moved to lay gentle kisses along the back of her thighs and her cheeks. He kneaded each cheek with his large, calloused hands, worshipping her body. She guessed he must have noticed her panting had stopped when she had finally gathered her breath when he flipped her body over so he could stare into her eyes.

“I love you,” she reminded him, running her hands through his raven curls now only she was able to cherish. His smile stirred something in her heart and she instinctually pulled him down to capture his lips. Her juices were still on his lips and she loved it. _He does not know how talented he is with that tongue. My compliments do not do him justice._

“I know,” he answered after tracing his tongue along her bottom lip. Rhaenys could not stop from smiling as he just hovered in his position over her, boring into her eyes with his own grey eyes like a wolf tracking its prey. With her legs already spread, she dug her heels into the back of his thighs, forcing him closer. Reaching for his perfect cock, she guided him to her glistening folds that were always ready for him. “Get inside me.”

She need not tell him twice as she felt his strong hand remove her own as he guided himself into her soaking walls. Jon began rocking his hips into hers, thrusting his cock further and further into her core. He made love to her as if it was his first time seeing her. _He still thinks me beautiful. He still worships me and savors these moments together. I look and do not see empty eyes. I see love._

As one of his hands firmly gripped her hip, the other ran through her hair, occasionally tightening its grasp whenever her walls clenched around his cock or he hit the back of her cunt. He began to move into her faster and faster, causing her to moan senseless Valyrian words. It was something she unintentionally picked up from Daenerys and Visenya.

Rhaenys thought he was about to spill into her until she felt him slip out. “Jon, what are you doing? Get back inside me,” she ordered in Valyrian, feeling her own body reaching the edge. _Seven hells, does he have self-control._ Jon began teasing her cunt, running his throbbing cock along her folds. He kept doing it, seeing how mad he was driving her. _That’s it!_

Not letting him control when she would find her pleasure, she pushed off the bed and attacked him. Pushing his chest with both her hands on his chiseled muscles, Rhaenys sent him on his back. With Jon laying on their bed with his weeping cock ready to spill, she found her feet and stood over him mulling over how she wanted to proceed. Not giving it much thought, she let her instincts guide her and she turned around to sit on his member so he could watch her ass collide with his hips as she took control.

With her feet on either side of his hips, Rhaenys eased down, taking his cock in hand. She felt Jon’s hands glide over her ass to her hips, trying to pull her down onto him. “Now it is my turn to tease you,” she whimpered as she slid his cock along her folds and against her nub.

“Rhaenys, please. Rhaenys, ...,” he tried to protest. Deciding she could not wait any longer herself, she slid onto his cock, sheathing his member. Starting slow, she rolled her hips, building the anticipation before she planned to ride him as hard as she could. The longer she rolled her hips, the more she felt Jon restlessly trying his best to thrust upwards into her cunt.

Satisfied with her efforts, Rhaenys let her body takeover as she started to bounce up and down on his cock. The faster she went, the louder she screamed his name as she arched her back. Covered in sweat, Rhaenys threw her loose hair back over her shoulder as her stomach muscles burned while she rode Jon passionately. “Oh Jon, fuck, there, right there,” she screamed as she continued to bounce on his cock.

Once he started to thrust into her just as hard, she saw stars through hooded eyelids while fondling her own breast as best she could. While she moaned and screamed his name, hitting her peak, she felt his fingers circle her nub as he continued to push up into her. _I love him!_

The sound of her ecstasy and the feeling of her walls closing on him coaxed him into cumming for her. Finally, he spilt his seed and growled her name. She felt exhausted as she fell back onto him with his hard cock still inside her until he involuntarily slipped out.

Both of their bodies were drenched in sweat as her back laid against his front. It meant the world to her as he protectively brought his arms around her stomach and chest, holding her close. His heart beat just as hard as her own. “I think you prefer me taking control,” she told him, staring at the ceiling of their bedchamber.

“Aye. I like whichever way you will have me,” he answered. _He’ll never admit it. My Jon. He always tries to be the one giving the most pleasure._ While his hand began to trace over her stomach, she began to think of the child growing inside her. She did not want to say anything in case of the unspeakable. Jon did not say anything, but she believed he knew. _How could he not? He has seen me rush to a pot in the morning. It has never been difficult to get me with child in the past._

“I had a dream last night. I was in the godswood of Winterfell, before the weirwood tree. It was just you, me, and our family. It was beautiful. Snow was on the ground and the moon could be seen through the trees. It made me sad we have not had our wedding yet,” she confessed. _I am his Queen and he my King, but I still want a wedding in the godswood. His wedding with Daenerys was perfect. That is what I want from mine._

“We can wed now if that is what you wish,” he said with concern evident in his voice.

“No, my love, I have waited this long. I will not have our ceremony in Myr. I want to be wed with our family there to see us,” she replied. Just mentioning their family carried her thoughts to Daenerys and Visenya. She wondered what they were doing right now. She missed Rhaegar, Arya, Eddard, Dany, and all the rest. “I miss them.”

“Aye. We will all be together again in Pentos and then we can sail home,” he said, trying to comfort her.

“Promise me, we will never be parted again. I hate this. We are meant to be together,” she demanded. _We are Targaryens. It is us against everyone else._

“I promise. Never again, you have my word,” he promised in his husky northern tilt. She beamed, knowing he would never lie to her.

“How long do you expect us to be in Pentos?” she asked, not having a clue about what it would take to prepare the khalasar to cross the Narrow Sea.

“Its hard to say. Weeks? A month? More? It is not just our men we need to bring with us. We need to bring food, weapons, horses, and other supplies with us. Dragonstone nor any castle in the Crownlands can sustain our army with their own provisions. We need to be prepared for a long war and an even longer winter,” Jon answered, running his hand carefully through her hair.

“Surely the Tyrells will be able to supply our men with food when winter comes,” she answered. _I know I was a poor listener when it came to lessons of Westerosi politics, but I do know the Reach has the ability to feed a great many._

“Aye, but we cannot be sure. We must prepare for all possible outcomes. The war with the Lannisters needs to be a short one. We still have to fight the dead. We have to be sure our men have enough food when they march north. Winter will be unforgiving, especially to the knights of the south and our men from Essos,” Jon told her with some dread in his voice. Whenever he spoke of the threat to the north, she saw his pained face and worried voice. _Jon is the bravest man I know. This scares me that he is afraid of them. He does not say it, but I know._

 

After finding the strength to remove herself from her bedchambers, Rhaenys had her handmaidens prepare a bath. She was pleased to find the water warm enough to burn anyone without the blood of the dragon. It was how she preferred it and gave her the time to relax after making love and before a long day seeing to the needs of Myr.

It was not an hour later when she made her way to her children’s rooms and made sure to dote upon her youngest babes. Viserra was restless when she took her in her arms, but eventually her little princess calmed with a mother’s touch. When the babe was asleep again, she focused her attentions on little Ashara. Her daughter did nothing but stare up at her with her own violet eyes in silence. Rhaenys eventually put Ashara to sleep after whispering sweet Valyrian words to her precious little girl. Seeing that Aeryn and Edric were already held by her mother, she decided to see to them later in the afternoon.

Bidding her mother farewell, Rhaenys left the room with Ser Arthur and two guards following her down the corridor to the stairs. Descending the stone stairs two levels, she marched past guard after guard toward the council room connected to Jon’s office. Ghost stood just outside the doorway on his hind legs waiting for her. As she passed the direwolf, she scratched behind his ear, knowing he always enjoyed her affections.

“Am I late?” she asked when she found Jon sitting at the head of the table with Lord Davos to his right and Ser Barristan to his left. Also seated at the table were Arianne, Edric Dayne, Rakharo, Kovarro, Qhono, and Aggo.

“No, we were just beginning to discuss the Disputed Lands,” Jon answered with a grim look.

“Disputed Lands? What is there to dispute? They are ours,” she replied as she made her way to take her seat at the opposite end of the table next to Arianne and Edric. She couldn’t help but admire the chair she found herself sitting. It was made of the finest wood from the Forest of Qohor and adorned with gold and rubies. _The magister who lived hear thought himself a king. If he were alive, I would thank him for his gift to House Targaryen._

“The villages are fighting each other. We received riders from several of them this morning pleading for men to protect them. I have already ordered some of the sellsword companies to prepare to ride out on the morrow with a company of Myrish soldiers to keep the peace. Word is also being sent to Volantis. They will need to keep the peace along with Myr, Lys, and Tyrosh,” Jon replied.

“How many villages are fighting?” she asked, wondering how much of an issue this would present. “Should we send some of our Dothraki?”

“The men in these lands are weak Khal Jon, we can defeat them and take their villages. They are like the lamb men in Lhazar,” Qhono said in Dothraki. _At least he understands what we are discussing without need of a translator. Irri must be giving them lessons._

“That will not be necessary. The khalasar will stay in Myr until it is time to ride for Pentos. There, we will begin preparations for the invasion. Magister Illyrio has sent word that food is starting to arrive from the farmers along the Rhoyne,” Jon said, looking at the scroll in his hands. Before they had left Volantis, Jon made sure to order Malaquo Maegyr to oversee the efforts of sending food up the Rhoyne and across land to Pentos. Jon reasoned they could not just rely on the Reach to feed their men come winter.

“Are there any troubles along the Rhoyne?” she asked, afraid to hear the answer.

“No, your Grace. It appears the Rhoynar will not cause any trouble after seeing a Dothraki horde ride through their lands,” Davos informed her. _At least some of the Essosi know not to oppose our rule._

“They did not fight when we rode through their towns. They bend the knee to Khal and Khaleesis,” Rakharo declared with pride.

“Good, they will be rewarded when the time comes,” she answered, finally looking to the map at the center of the table. It was a map of Westeros with over a dozen wood-carved figures representing the armies of the Seven Kingdoms. “Is that all regarding Essos?”

“The merchants and shop owners are happy to see the port filled with ships again. There are even ships arriving from Braavos. The city guard say stealing is down by half,” Davos informed the council.

“And how did they do that?” Jon asked with skepticism. _Have we chosen the wrong men? They are already lying to us._

“It wasn’t the city watch my King. The city’s best thieves attempted to steal your gold and were caught by your riders. Qhono had their heads removed and the others who were not caught seemed to get the message,” Davos informed them. When she turned to Qhono, she found their bloodrider smiling with pride at his work. _He should have brought them before Jon to meet the King’s justice, but I will not quibble with such matters._

“Next time thieves attempt to take our gold, bring them to me before removing their head,” Jon ordered the Dothraki at the table. Each of them acknowledged his command and Rhaenys knew they would see his wishes carried out. “And what of the whispers of the Golden Company being hired by Braavos?”

“Unconfirmed, your Grace. It is just tavern gossip, nothing more, but I will find out,” Ser Barristan answered. _Gossip in taverns is not always wrong. There is a shred of truth in there._

The Golden Company had been a concern of theirs for some time. Jon expected to face them in Volantis or one of the other Free Cities they had conquered. Instead, the sellsword company was nowhere to be found. They were last reported to be seen in the Disputed Lands, under contract with Myr before riding north toward Pentos. _They are likely in Braavos protecting the Sealord and the Iron Bank. It is what I would do._

“As long as they stay out of our lands and away from Westeros, the Golden Company can do as they please. Now, what news do we have from Westeros?” Jon asked, looking down at the map.

“Ser Jonothor says the Blackfish stills holds Riverrun while the Freys have prepared a siege. He thinks the Lannisters will join them to take back the castle. Stannis has the Stormlords ready for war. Lord Willas and Lady Allyria have made it to Highgarden. Loras Tyrell is still imprisoned and Lord Mace Tyrell is still serving on Tommen’s Small Council at Kevan Lannister’s request. The High Sparrow has sent emissaries to Dragonstone with demands in return for Loras’ safe return,” Barristan informed them. _These fanatics are delusional if they believe Loras Tyrell is enough to bargain with House Targaryen._

“Did my grandmother have them killed?” Jon asked. Rhaenys was amused by his question. _Our grandmother does have a certain distaste for the Faith._

“No, your Grace,” Ser Barristan replied with a slight smirk on his lips.

“They will be dealt with when we take back King’s Landing. That brings us to Dorne. Will you need our men to take Sunspear and remove your father?” Jon asked Arianne.

“No, I will take Sunspear without an army. My cousins will help me take my father prisoner and keep him in the Water Gardens. No Dornish blood needs to be spilled,” her cousin replied. _No Dornish blood. Areo Hotah is unlucky he is not Dornish._

“And what if your plot is discovered? Do you have a plan?” Jon questioned Arianne.

“There are enough houses ready to fight for House Targaryen. If it comes to it, my father will gather an army and march for my wife,” Edric answered.

“I trust you both. After you take Sunspear, call your banners and bring your army to Tumbleton. Set camp outside the town until we call on you to march on King’s Landing. If any issues arise along the road, you have my leave to move forward as you see fit,” Jon told Edric. Rhaenys could tell Jon trusted Edric far more than most. They were true friends and Jon valued Edric’s experience in the Riverlands.

“How do you expect the Tyrells to march on King’s Landing with Mace Tyrell and Loras still in the city? I know Willas has bent the knee and is married to Allyria, but he would never put his father and brother in danger,” Arianne said.

“We have plans for Loras’ escape and Mace’s, shall we say, stepping aside,” Rhaenys answered, not wanting to reveal more. _Varys swore his little birds can see it done. That old oaf better not make trouble when the time comes._

“Now, if that is all…,” Jon began to speak until he was cut off by Aegon and Nymeria barging into the room, chasing after one another.

“I am sorry, your Grace,” the handmaiden apologized running in to catch up with her children. Jon waved her off and she turned to leave them be. Everyone at the table bid them farewell, leaving them with their children.

“Why are you running away from the maids?” Jon asked Nymeria after scooping their daughter off the ground.

“They won’t take us to the dragons. We want to see dragons,” Nymeria answered while fiddling with her hair. Rhaenys looked over to find Aegon climbing onto one of the chairs to reach the figurines on the map of Westeros. He managed to find the dragon on Dragonstone and began to play with it in the air.

“It is not safe for them to go near the dragons. They are not Targaryens. It is not safe for you either, little one,” Jon said, tapping Nymeria’s little nose, causing her to giggle.

Rhaenys walked over to her son, wanting to scoop him up and mess up his hair until she realized how much he enjoyed the sigils on the map. Deciding to let him be, she went to Jon’s side to kiss her daughter’s brow. “It is alright, I will take you to see Myrax and Vermithrex,” she said, running her hand over her daughter’s hair.

“Moonlight. I want to ride Moonlight,” Nymeria said without any fear.

“You can touch them. You cannot fly them. You are so small, they would throw you right off. And that would make Moonlight sad. Do you want Moonlight to be sad?” she told Nymeria, who shook her head. _It is the only way to persuade her. When she is older, I know she will sneak off to fly her dragon without our permission._

“We ride Shadow!” Aegon declared, running up to hug her side. She had caught him trying to climb on her direwolf’s back several times and she had told them several times not to do it.

“He is not a horse Aegon, do you understand me? No more riding on direwolves,” she warned her son, who looked down at his feet with a sad face. Seeing him upset made Rhaenys wish she could take back what she said, but they did not need to be riding around on direwolves. “Come here,” she continued, pulling her son in for a hug as she knelt on the floor.

“When are we going home? I want to go home. I miss Rhaegar and Arya,” Aegon mumbled against her chest.

“We will see your brothers and sisters soon, I promise. We have to stay here for a bit longer and then we will see them in Pentos. You will love it there. We will live by the sea so you can watch the ships sail by and the dragons fly over all day,” she said with a comforting hand rubbing her son’s back.

“Promise?” Aegon replied.

“I promise. Your father and Daenerys lived there once. You will like it,” she told him, thinking back on Daenerys’ description of Pentos. _Well, the manses outside Pentos are beautiful. She did not say anything remarkable about the city itself._

“Is Aunt Ari going?” Nymeria asked. Her daughter had become attached to Arianne and her cousin took a quick liking to her oldest daughter. _I hope Arianne has children one day who will be close to my own._

“Yes, she is sailing with us to Pentos,” Jon answered. As he set her down, he continued, “Now run along. You and your brother, wait by the door with Ghost and Ser Arthur. Your mother will take you to see the dragons.”

At the mention of dragons, Aegon and Nymeria ran as fast as they could out of the room. While she watched them turn the corner to find Ghost, she felt Jon pull her back against his chest with his arms firmly around her stomach. She leant back into his embrace as he kissed her neck.

“What has gotten into you?” she whimpered as she felt a hand move its way under her dress onto her breast.

“Nothing, just you,” he whispered into her ear.

“Enough,” she said, getting herself out of his grasp. “I do not want to keep them waiting. Try not to wear yourself thin with the troubles of Myr while I am gone.”

“I won’t. Arthur will be the one wearing me thin, sparring,” he answered. _He trains everyday like he is some knight’s squire. It is not like he needs the practice._

Stepping on her toes, she kissed him farewell. After releasing his lips, Rhaenys turned on her heels and left Jon to find her children waiting with Ghost to visit the dragons. They looked eager to get out of the manse and connect with the beasts they may fly one day. _Nothing will prepare me for that day._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is titled Setting the Pieces. That may change. POVs from Gendry, Elia, & Rhaenys. A Rhaella POV could be added. Ch 33 will be titled Black & White and it will be an important one.


	32. Setting the Pieces

**Elia Martell**

The Targaryen fleet from Tyrosh filled the horizon, sailing toward the Pentoshi port. Elia wondered if the constant stream of ships would end as she watched them sail by to the north. Standing with Aegon and Nymeria, she pointed to the ship breaking off from the rest, sailing in their direction. Circling above the ship were six of the dragons, protecting her family from any dangers at sea.

Looking over her shoulder, she saw her daughter and Jon walking down the steps carved into the cliff along the sea before their newly constructed manse. Trailing them were their two direwolves and Ser Barristan in his kingsguard armor. The weather in Pentos was pleasant and allowed for the knights of Westeros to wear armor they would adorn in King’s Landing.

Elia was thankful to have left Myr behind. The manse they currently resided in was far more appealing, lying three miles south of the city of Pentos with a beautiful garden that reminded her of the Water Gardens. She wondered if Illyrio built such a grand manse for House Targaryen out of loyalty, fear, or to distract them from any potential misdeeds he had committed while Jon and Daenerys were away.

Not caring for her new yellow Pentoshi dress, she knelt down to point out the four small boats approaching. “Look, there is Daenerys and Visenya. And there is your Grandmother Lyanna,” she said to Aegon and Nymeria. They were easy to pick out with the direwolves sitting at the front of the boats, eager to set their paws on firm ground. Elia noticed the wolves braved sailing on the seas, but did not enjoy the confines of a ship.

The first boat to run ashore on the small beach carried Lyanna, Rhaegar, Arya, and Zokla. Aegon and Nymeria ran toward their older brother and sister to reunite with them. They had spent everyday of their lives together until the past several moons. She watched Aegon show his brother a new wooden sword Jon gifted him in Myr. Nymeria was showing Arya a new dress, even if the older girl was not as interested in such things as her little sister.

After her grandchildren released Lyanna from their grasp, Elia pulled her into her embrace. Holding her close, she reacquainted herself with her smell and her smooth raven hair she was so familiar with. “How was Myr?” Lyanna finally asked as Elia eased her grip around her.

“It was rather dull outside of the markets. They make fine rugs and glass as you know, but there was not much else. It was like any other city in the world. How was Tyrosh?” she replied.

“More or less the same. I just distracted myself with the grandchildren. I can say we are expecting more grandchildren. Visenya and Daenerys are with child,” Lyanna beamed

“That’s tremendous news. Rhaenys is with child as well,” Elia replied, until noticing the smile on Lyanna’s face dissolve into a look of sadness. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I did not want to tell you like this,” Lyanna said, looking around like she wanted no one else to hear what she had to say. “Your brother is dead.”

“How?” was all she could get out. It was the last thing she expected to hear. Doran turned his back on her and Rhaenys, but she did not want him dead. _He was the only brother I had left, despite his flaws and betrayal. I already lost Oberyn._

“Killed by Ellaria Sand and the Sand Snakes,” Lyanna replied with a nervous look, rubbing her arm in a comforting manner. She appreciated the gesture, but it did nothing to replace the sorrow she felt. “I am sorry.”

Wiping a tear from her eye, Elia searched for Rhaenys, finding her daughter standing next to Jon. She could see she was receiving the news from Daenerys and Visenya. It was evident that it had an impact on her daughter, but Rhaenys held more contempt for Doran than she did. Rhaenys looked closer to indifferent than sad.

“That isn’t all. Quentyn and Trystane were killed as well,” Lyanna informed her. _Arianne does not know. This will crush her. She has lost everything and doesn’t know it. At least she has Edric._

“They did not deserve it,” Elia said in a hushed tone, trying to compose herself with her grandchildren around. She did not want them to be upset at the sight of herself being distraught.

“No, they didn’t,” Lyanna confirmed, grabbing hold of her hand to squeeze it, giving her strength.

“Grandmother, why are you sad?” she heard little Senya say, pulling on her dress. She looked down to see the sweet little girl’s face filled with worry. Not wanting Senya to worry about things a child should not, Elia put on a brave face and picked the little girl up. _She is getting big. They all are growing so fast._

“I am not sad. I am happy to see you. I have missed you all this time. Every night before your brothers and sisters go to bed, we talked about how much we wished you were with us. Ghost and Shadow especially missed you,” she told the little princess, who smiled at the mention of the direwolves.

“When are we going home? When are we going to Grandmother Rhaella?” Senya mumbled, playing with Elia’s ruby necklace.

“Soon, sweetling, soon,” she answered. The closer they got to Dragonstone, the more nervous they became. _It is not just me. I can see it on everyone’s face. We are closer. We are afraid we will not return before something terrible should happen._ Setting her granddaughter back on the dark, sandy beach, she continued, “Now run along to your father. I am sure he has a gift for you.”

Doing her best to bury the grim events in Dorne from her thoughts, Elia turned her focus to the sight before her. Their family was together again after being parted for several months. The only person missing was Rhaella, but that would soon be righted. Rhaegar, Eddard, Aegon, and Jon were already battling each other with their wooden swords while Arya clung to her father’s side. _The Red Keep will be in chaos when they can all run around and get up to trouble._

 

 

**Rhaenys Targaryen**

“I’m going to kill them all. Ellaria, Obara, Nym, Tyene, all of them,” Arianne vowed. Rhaenys could see her cousin seething at the news of the murder of Doran. Rhaenys wanted him punished and did not plan to lose any sleep over his potential death. What did anger her was the murder of her cousins, Quentyn and Trystane. _They may have been fools, eager to betray me and steal Sunspear from Arianne, but they were blood. I did not want them dead, just put in their place._

“I will fly Myrax to Dorne and support you. You will not go alone,” she assured Arianne who only shook her head.

“No, I must do this on my own. Edric and I will take back what is mine. You flying into Sunspear, burning them to ashes will only make things worse. You know the Dornish, Rhae,” Arianne replied. _She is right. Even with my Dornish blood, I am still a Targaryen. The Dornish are much like the Northerners, holding onto the past._

“If you need us, send a raven to Dragonstone and I will fly south,” she promised, angered at another enemy they needed to defeat in the war. _At least the Sand Snakes will never ally themselves with Cersei._ “When do you plan to leave?”

“Edric is speaking with the captains of our ships now. Likely within the fortnight. We will first sail for Starfall and gather the men already loyal to me, then we will march east. Ellaria thinks Dorne will follow her because she seeks revenge for Oberyn and Aegon. She is mistaken. I already have half of Dorne with me. Houses Dalt, Yronwood, Wyl, Uller, Vaith, and the rest will all fall in line now. I will have her begging for mercy, but she shall receive none,” Arianne declared, staring out the window of their manse at the Narrow Sea.

“Do not underestimate them,” Rhaenys cautioned her cousin. “If they seek a parlay, they will likely try to poison you.”

“Do not worry about me. I know every poison they should wish to use. Oberyn taught me well. I wish it had not come to this, but they have forced my hand. I loved them, you know. They were sisters to me, especially Tyene,” Arianne said.

“I was not as close with him, but I know the same feeling. Viserys betrayed my family. If I could, I would go back and kill him,” she replied, trying to contain her own anger at just saying his name. _He deserved a worse death. He should have burned for what he did to Egg and Father. Now, the only ones left for my revenge are Cersei and the Mountain. Joffrey and Tywin have escaped their punishment._

“Arianne?” she heard Edric come into the solar behind her. Twisting in her seat, she saw the concerned look of a loving husband for his wife.

“I will give you time with your Lord husband,” she said, standing to leave. Arianne grabbed her wrist before she could give them their space and brought her in for a brief hug. _She is the only family I have left from House Martell besides my mother._

Retreating from the solar, Rhaenys glanced one last time to see Arianne sink into Edric’s arms, crying again. She knew her cousin did her best to hold back her tears and would never show them in front of those she did not love. To the world, she was Arianne Martell, the future Princess and ruler of Dorne. Arianne would never let the lords and ladies of Westeros think her weak.

Wanting to free her thoughts of the death, betrayal, politics, and war, Rhaenys made her way through the marble floored halls of their manse to the garden overlooking the Narrow Sea. She had not flown Myrax since she arrived in Pentos and felt the sudden need to be close to her dragon. Flying always cleared her head and made the rest of the world disappear. Only Jon and her children had the same effect.

Expecting to find the dragons in the gardens, she came upon Jon, Daenerys, and Visenya standing against a stone balustrade with a clear view of the blue waters of the Narrow Sea. She saw them talking and following their dragons dance in the sky over the sea. There were even ships still arriving from Tyrosh sailing along the coast.

As she closed the distance, she saw Jon look into Daenerys’ eyes as if they had been parted for years. It was how she felt when he flew to the Wall. There was no way of knowing what kind of enemy he faced nor where he would find himself in battle. _She is also ready to take him to bed. I know that look in her eye._

Visenya caught her approaching and turned to greet her. “How did she take it?” Visenya asked with genuine concern on her face.

“As well as can be expected. They will leave soon,” she confirmed, taking the place next to her sister.

“We can send men and ships with her,” Jon offered until she raised her hand to stop him.

“No, she will deal with the Sand Snakes on her own. Trust me Jon, it will be better if we let the Dornish figure this out amongst themselves. I offered my aid, but Arianne was right. Dorne will not like a Targaryen King or Queen flying south on a dragon, choosing their Princess,” she stated. Jon accepted what she had to say, but she could see Daenerys looked unconvinced. _She always feels the need to take action herself and not depend on others._

“Aye, I trust you,” he affirmed, leaving a short but tasteful kiss on her lips.

“When will we sail for Dragonstone?” Visenya asked, not having been informed yet of the situation in Pentos.

“In a moon, maybe more. We are still waiting for food from the Rhoyne and supplies from Norvos and Qohor. When we set foot in Westeros, we will have more men, enough provisions to last us two years, and dragons. If we cannot defeat Cersei Lannister and the boy Tommen with that, then I do not deserve to sit the Iron Throne,” Jon answered.

“We are finally doing it. We are going home and taking back what is ours,” Daenerys said with pride.

“It still makes me nervous. We could have lost everything in Meereen without losing a battle,” Visenya replied, leaning against Jon’s side.

“That’s because you are not stupid. We have to be careful and ruthless. Cersei is an evil bitch who will do her best to kill us. I will never underestimate her again. She may look weak now, but she will get her revenge against the High Sparrow. Of that, I have no doubt,” Rhaenys said, trying to imagine all the terrible ways Cersei was plotting to have the High Sparrow killed. _Maybe it is not death she has planned for him. Perhaps something far worse._

“Has my mother sent any messages from Dragonstone?” Daenerys asked, looking to Jon for an answer.

“Just the usual reports regarding the Crownlands and what our spies in Westeros have seen. Aurane Waters will be arriving in Pentos soon with ships from Driftmark. We will see her soon,” Jon comforted her. _We have not seen her in years. It is not right. She has not even laid eyes on one of her grandchildren._

“I did not ask, how were things in Tyrosh when you left?” Jon asked.

“A good as can be expected. Trade returned to normal shortly after we took the city. The Braavosi still send ships into Tyrosh and our cities in the east are increasing trade. The Stepstones are still being cleared out. Salladhor Saan was promised a lordship if he succeeds. I hope you have no objections,” Daenerys informed them, causing Jon to let out a small laugh.

“Aye, if he can keep the peace in the Stepstones and let ships pass freely between the seas, I have no objections. Davos will be amused to find out his friend will have a lordship,” Jon mused.

 

 

**Gendry Baratheon**

Finally emerging from the woods, Gendry came to the end of the Kingsroad. Pulling on the reigns of his horse, he came to a halt within sight of his home, Storm’s End. He did not know why it gave him comfort to see the walls still standing strong against the wind from Shipbreaker Bay. It was not like the Lannister’s had the time or resources to attack his family’s keep. Thousands of men would die attempting to take the castle. _Only dragons could bring down the thick walls of Storm’s End._

After years of fighting in the Riverlands and the occasional raid in the Westerlands, Gendry was finally home, to fight for his father and House. When he joined the Brotherhood Without Banners after escaping Harrenhal with Arya Stark and Hot Pie, they had a purpose and an enemy. The westermen, some northmen, and a few from the Riverlands preyed on the smallfolk and he did his best to end it. He did not fight any great battles nor earn any glory, but he did make a difference in the Riverlands.

What started as a fight against the lions of Casterly Rock and their bannermen for the most part, turned into a secret war against House Frey for the past year. After the wedding at the Twins and the retreat of the northern armies, all that remained was fighting between the Blackfish and House Frey. The Freys had the numbers and advantage with the support of Tywin Lannister.

Tywin Lannister’s death led to decreased support for Walder Frey and allowed the Blackfish to build up the defenses of Riverrun along with a number of other castles loyal to House Tully and House Targaryen. The opportunity to press their advantage and inflict losses upon House Frey was stymied by time. After the war in the Riverlands ended and Robb Stark marched north, their numbers began to dwindle. _It wasn’t the same after Edric left._

He did his best to help Thoros of Myr and Lord Beric Dondarrion hold their brotherhood together. They fought a losing battle and eventually decided to head south after their number fell to twelve good men. The last of their brotherhood did not leave. After learning several of their men turned to banditry, extortion, and murder, Beric led the hunting and killing of the traitors to their cause. It was when they had the men hanged, they came across Sandor Clegane.

“Enjoy it lad, we are not long for the South. The Great War is coming. The dark against the light. The dead against the living. The Lord of Light guides our path and the end of that path is in the North,” Beric Dondarrion said in his usual tone, pulling up beside him to look upon Storm’s End. _Will he ever stop with the Lord of Light? I heard enough of it from Melisandre and my mother._

“For fuck’s sake, will you shut your hole? If I have to hear about anymore of your fire god, I am going to kill you and Thoros. There will be no one to bring you back Dondarrion,” Sandor Clegane said, finally shutting Beric up.

“I don’t believe that. Who would you drink with if I were gone, Clegane?” Thoros asked, riding up behind them.

“Listen, you bald cunt, if you think I care whether you live or die, you’re mistaken,” Clegane replied, bringing his wineskin to his mouth. Gendry always wondered how he was able to drink so much and still maintain his fighting abilities.

There was no point in sitting there any longer like a lost fool, so Gendry rode forward down the last stretch of the Kingsroad leading to the main gate. His father still kept the castle garrisoned by plenty of men. He could see more than a dozen men atop the battlements, overlooking the gate. They all wore the familiar armor he grew up seeing men wear in the yard and along the walls of Storm’s End.

“Who goes there?” a guard yelled, standing under the open gate with one hand on the grip of his sheathed sword.

“Gendry of House Baratheon, son of Lord Stannis Baratheon,” he answered, riding his horse right up to the guard who looked him over with a skeptical face. _I cannot blame him. They probably thought I was dead._

“Lord Stannis has been expecting you,” the guard answered, stepping aside for Gendry to pass through the gate, into the yard.

The banners hanging from the pale grey walls of Storm’s End were a pleasant surprise. Gone were the flaming heart banners he heard of while in the Riverlands. All the banners he could see were gold with the black stag in the middle. _I guess he rid himself of the banners after being defeated on the Blackwater._ He only met the Lady Melisandre once, when she first tried to turn his mother away from the Faith of the Seven.

Around the yard, he noticed a few familiar faces who seemed to recognize him by the looks on their faces. Many thought him dead after years fighting in the Riverlands. The stable boys running forth to gather their horses were unfamiliar to him. _The old ones are either too old to be stable boys or dead._

Sliding from the saddle, handing the reins to the nearest boy who could not have been older than twelve, Gendry took a moment to look around at Storm’s End. His home had not changed a bit. _It likely hasn’t changed for a thousand years._ The drum tower still stood tall in the center of the curtain walls and the practice yard was stilled filled with boys learning to fight from the master at arms. He could see several servants who worked in the kitchens walking from the direction of the great hall toward their quarters. The soldiers standing at their posts along the wall looked miserable, watching for an enemy that would never come.

Knowing his father to be an impatient man given the circumstances, Gendry stopped himself from reminiscing old memories and began to make his way to the keep. His companions fell in behind him, none having been to Storm’s End, save Beric, Thoros, and the Hound. The ground between himself and the drum tower was no more than fifty paces, but it felt like he was walking a mile. Each step gave him more time to consider his father’s reaction.

He was not prepared to answer why he had not ridden south for Storm’s End as soon as he escaped Harrenhal. All his reasons would fall on deaf ears. No matter what he thought right or wrong, his father was likely to remind him of his duty to their House, not the smallfolk of the Riverlands.

Entering the keep, Gendry passed through the dark hallway, illuminated by braziers every ten paces. It was a dark keep, that received little light from the outside. Only the round hall and their family’s chambers enjoyed favorable lighting from the outside. Reaching the end of the hallway and turning down another, he saw several servants carrying food into the round hall that was to his left.

Just when he was about to turn to the corridor standing to his right to find the stairs leading to his father’s chambers, he noticed his companions were not following him. “Where are you going?” he asked.

“I’ve been drinking that Dornish piss for the past ten days. I’m going to find a good ale and a fat, juicy chicken to eat,” Clegane answered with his backed turned, walking away. Gendry looked to Thoros, expecting him or Beric to follow him to discuss the coming war with his father.

“Drinking and talking,” Thoros answered, still drinking from another wineskin. It always seemed he had an endless supply of wine, ale, or both.

“Go lad, we will speak with your father later. On the morrow, we will tell him of the true war that lies to the North, for the night is dark and full of terrors,” Beric said, leaving him standing there alone. _According to the Lord of Light, every night is dark and full of terrors it seems._

Mustering the courage to carry on, Gendry made his way to the end of the corridor and climbed the stairs leading to the upper levels of the tower. Part of him prayed Shireen would come around the corner and pull him away from facing his father. _What does she look like now? I have not seen her in years. She was just a small girl then._

 When he reached the floor containing his family’s chambers, Gendry abandoned the stairs and walked down the silent corridor toward his father’s solar with only the sound of his steps hitting the stones in the air. Rounding the final corner, he found his father’s quarters protected by two guards who seemed to recognize him, nodding their heads as he passed them to push open the heavy oak door with a stag carved into its center. As the door creaked open, Gendry found his lord father sitting in a chair alone, in front of the window overlooking the woods and fields surrounding Shipbreaker Bay.

“I said I was not to be disturbed,” his father said, still staring out the window before finally looking over his shoulder. By the look on his father’s face, he was not surprised to see him and was indeed expecting his return to Storm’s End. The moment passed when his father turned back to the window with a look of disappointment. “You’re alive.”

“Aye,” he replied, stepping toward the end of the table closest to the door. He noticed the fire in the hearth was beginning to die out to his left. By the appearance of the scrolls strewn across the table, he presumed his father had been there since morning, conducting a lord’s duty.

“We thought you were dead,” his father said, finally breaking the silence.

“Came close to it, once or twice. After I escaped King’s Landing, I was taken prisoner at Harrenhal. I made it out of there just before the Battle of Blackwater Bay…,” he began to inform him.

“As my son, it was your duty to return to Storm’s End. Instead, you were fighting in the Riverlands with a band of criminals. Perhaps I should name your sister my heir,” his father cut into him as expected. Gendry was not sure if his father knew of his whereabouts before, but had the answer now. Stepping around the table, closer to the end of the table his father sat, he could hear the crashing of the waves through the window overcoming the sound of a castle.

“She would make a fine Lady of the Stormlands,” he responded, knowing it would anger his father.

“Is that what you want? To throw away the Baratheon name and the responsibilities that come with it,” his father questioned. Gendry could hear the disappointment in his voice paired with a tinge of controlled rage.

“I heard what happened on the Blackwater after I escaped. When Beric Dondarrion and Thoros found me, I had a choice and I made it. If you had gathered another army, I would have returned. I may have not been at your side, but I was in the Riverlands, killing Lannisters and Freys and all the rest,” he replied.

“And northmen, as I hear it,” his father said, finally twisting in his seat to look at him again as he pulled out the closest chair to sit in.

“Rapers, murderers, and thieves. They preyed on the weak. They deserved it. If it wasn’t us, Robb Stark would have given them the same punishment.”

“And what of the bandits amongst your ranks? The stories cannot be all lies spread by the westermen,” his father countered.

“They are dead. We killed the last of them. That is why I am sitting before you now. There is nothing more for us to do in the Riverlands. The Great War is coming and I am here to fight it. To serve House Baratheon and my father, Lord Stannis Baratheon,” he told his father true, hoping it would end there.

“And what do you know of the wars to come?”

“The war between the dragons and lions means nothing. The true war lies in the North. I do not believe in the Lord of Light like Mother, but I have seen things. Things that cannot be explained. Beric and Thoros have told me of what lies beyond the Wall and it is coming for us all. I heard you led an army north over a year ago and after that, the wildlings were let through the Wall. I’m guessing Lady Melisandre warned you of the threat,” he answered, looking for a reaction on his father’s unreadable face.

“She did,” he responded.

“And, where is she?” he asked, hoping the red priestess was dead or gone. He liked Thoros, but he was not truly a priest. _Saving Beric is the only thing keeping an ounce of faith in him._

“With our King. She left with Davos to serve him after Castle Black,” he replied.

“In Meereen?” he asked. _Why is Ser Davos gone? He has always served Father._

“Pentos. You surprise me. The entire realm will know soon. The Targaryens have conquered all the lands from Qarth to Pentos. It won’t be long now before Jon returns to Dragonstone and the war begins. The ravens flew two days ago. In two moons, our bannermen will ride for Storm’s End and our army will prepare for the eventual siege of King’s Landing,” his father informed him. _It is only a matter of time before the gates of King’s Landing are barred for none to leave. Once the smallfolk hear of the dragons conquering the free cities, panic will ensue if it hasn’t already._

“What of Dorne? Shouldn’t we be preparing for an attack from the south?”

“Doran Martell is dead. Quentyn Martell is dead. Trystane Martell is dead. I am assured the Targaryens have a plan for Arianne Martell to remove Oberyn Martell’s bastards,” his father said.

“They killed them?” he asked, thinking back on the few times he met the daughters of the Red Viper. _One of them was pretty. Tyene, I think her name was._

“And Myrcella. The fools have made an enemy of the Lannisters and Targaryens. Princess Arianne did not take kindly to the news,” his father replied. _Myrcella is dead? I know she is not blood, but she was family once. She was always a sweet girl who made people wonder how she was born to such a cruel mother._ “When we march on King’s Landing, we will join the Tyrell army before crossing the Blackwater Rush.”

“The Tyrells? I thought you would want them dead,” Gendry said. He knew his father and a forgiving man he was not. When he had heard of Loras Tyrell joining forces with Tywin Lannister at the Battle of Blackwater Bay, he guessed his father was already plotting the war with Highgarden.

“I will do my duty and follow my king. I have been promised Mace Tyrell will lose his lordship and Loras Tyrell will be forced to take the black. Willas will be the new Lord of Highgarden. I do not like it, but I can respect the lad. Now that he is wed to Ashara Dayne’s bastard girl, we can assume he will not be as foolish as the rest of his lot,” his father said, seething with fury as he uttered the names Mace and Loras.

“Will Jon name you Hand?” he asked, knowing his father was the logical choice. He was Lord of the Stormlands and a loyal ally to House Targaryen.

“That honor falls to Lord Davos Seaworth,” his father replied, bestowing the title of lord upon Davos to his surprise. _So, the Onion Knight is now a lord and Hand of the King? I wish it would have gone to my father but I wish Davos good fortune._ “I will not deny it, he will make a good Hand. It matters not, my place is at Storm’s End.”

Gendry was going to attempt to cheer his father’s spirits if possible until he became distracted by the sound of the door opening behind him. Just as he glanced toward the door, he saw his sister rushing in to greet him. She had grown so much and he could not believe he had not seen her for so many years.

“Gendry!” Shireen called his name, rushing into his arms almost before he could stand from his chair. Her small hands gripped his gambeson with the strength of a sister afraid of never seeing her brother again. “I’ve missed you brother.”

“I’ve missed you too. You’ve grown. Still reading books about dragons and knights?” he questioned her.

“They are my favorites. I even taught the Onion Knight how to read,” Shireen replied with a warm smile across her face.

“I guess you will get to see real dragons soon,” he mused, catching a glimpse of his father picking up another raven scroll to read.

“Did you hear of them in the Riverlands?” she asked. Gendry had only heard brief stories, some more imaginative than others. By the time sailors crossed the narrow sea and spread their tales at port onto the rest of Westeros, much of it was hard to believe.

“I hear there are twelve of them and that they grow larger every year,” he answered.

“Father saw them. Queen Visenya has a silver-scaled dragon named Silverclaw and the King has a grey one named Vermithrex. I hear Queen Daenerys rides a great black scaled dragon that breathes black flames and Queen Rhaenys flies a crimson dragon that is quicker than all the others,” her sister told him with joy. _She always did love reading about the dragons that once ruled the realm. Her heart may stop when she sees one in the flesh._

“Black flames?” he questioned, disbelieving such stories.

“Probably a lie, but could you imagine?” she asked. _No, I couldn’t. I can still hardly believe any exist at all._

 

 

**Rhaella Targaryen**

“What am I looking at?” Rhaella asked as she held the parchment in her hands, going over the numbers. She could clearly read the ink, but the numbers did not make any sense. _They are too high._

“Gold from Myr and Tyrosh. I checked, the counters were not wrong,” Monford Velaryon confirmed, understanding what she questioned. She quickly shot a look at her lover, looking him and up down before returning to the inventory her grandson had sailed to Dragonstone. Lord Monford rarely left for Driftmark now, staying on Dragonstone with her while his sons ruled at Castle Driftmark to oversee the expansion of the Velaryon fleet and the gradual reconstruction of High Tide. _That is still many years away from being completed._

“Jon has acquired a talent for finding more and more gold,” she jested, knowing it was not a matter of coming upon greater wealth. Her grandson, daughter, and granddaughters were seizing the wealth of the rich they conquered. _Even the most incompetent of Kings could not spend all of our treasure._

“A shame then, that the gold mines of Casterly Rock have run dry,” Monford replied, sipping from his silver cup of wine while carefully looking over the Painted Table.

“Yes, a shame,” she confirmed, wishing she could have stolen Casterly Rock and all its gold from Tywin Lannister before he met his end. Instead, she would have to remain content with seeing Cersei Lannister lose all that she holds dear before losing her head. _She has lost two children already. We will kill the boy who calls himself King._

“There are rumors Cersei has reached out to the Iron Bank, that they have given her enough gold to raise another army,” Monford added. This information was nothing new or unexpected.

“I imagine our House is costing the Braavosi a great deal. They say they will always get their gold back, but they should tread carefully unless they wish to learn the words of House Targaryen,” she replied, looking over the manifests of the ships sailing for White Harbor with dragonglass and other supplies for the war to come. The Night’s Watch was now well provisioned for the defense of the Wall with the assistance of Mance Rayder’s wildlings. Most of the dragonglass and provisions being sent north were going to Winterfell on Jon’s orders.

Hearing a slight knock on the door at end of the room, Rhaella looked up from the manifests. “Come in,” she bid the guards to allow the visitor in. She was pleasantly surprised to find Lord Ardrian Celtigar walking in, wearing his finely sewn red doublet with small crabs woven into the design that could be found if one looked close enough.

As she stood from her chair, walking around Oldtown on the Painted Table to greet the Lord of Claw Isle, their bannerman bent the knee. He always showed her proper respect and remained a fierce loyalist to House Targaryen. She would never forget the sacrifice Ser Edwyn Celtigar made, protecting her son and grandson. “Your Grace,” Lord Ardrian said on bended knee, dipping his head.

“Stand, my old friend. I hope the winds were kind on your journey here,” she commanded, smiling as he rose to his feet to face her. The Lord had sailed to Storm’s End to meet with Stannis Baratheon to discuss the wars to come and the ever-changing political situation in the capitol. _Cersei and the boy are doing their best to break their hold over the city before our House even returns to reclaim what is ours._

“They were your Grace. Lord Monford,” Ardrian replied as the Lord of Driftmark came to greet him.

“Please, sit,” she gestured toward the open seat next to Monford along the coast of the Reach on the Painted Table. Returning to her seat at the edge of Dorne, Rhaella carefully settled herself comfortably in her chair before setting her scrolls aside. “Tell, how are things in the Stormlands?”

“Stannis has called his banners and is raising an army at Storm’s End. It may be two months before he is ready to march, but all the stormlords are behind him. The handful that still remained loyal to Renly or sought favor with Cersei have been dealt with,” Lord Celtigar answered.

“Has he encountered any of these so-called Sparrows? More and more of our bannermen are complaining of their presence across the Crownlands. Lord Darry sent a raven informing us some have travelled to the Riverlands,” she inquired, wanting to know how Lord Stannis dealt with the religious fanatics.

“He did not say anything to me, but that does not mean they have not spread to the Stormlands. They know better than to sail to Claw Isle after we sent them back to King’s Landing without their heads,” Lord Ardrian voiced his clear displeasure toward the new Faith Militant.

“Lord Rykker has their heads placed on spikes outside the walls of Duskendale,” Monford added, amused at the story they heard after receiving a raven from Lord Rykker. _I do not take pleasure in the suffering and gruesome deaths of others, but these Sparrows are the rare exception. They would slaughter my entire family and kill anyone with the blood of Old Valyria if they could._

“I can raise a thousand good men to hunt them down and put an end to their push into the Crownlands,” Ardrian volunteered.

“No, that isn’t necessary. I have sent ravens to all our lords that any Sparrows they find are to be put to the sword. They are a threat, but only in King’s Landing for now. We will kill them all. They are serving us now, whether they know it or not. Day by day, that boy cedes more power to that charlatan,” she replied, referring to the High Sparrow. The stories she heard of him that had spread by word of mouth through the smallfolk told her all she needed to know. _He is an astute politician, carefully veiling his ambitions for power under the mask of a man of faith. He has done just enough to convince the people he is a devout man, unforgiving of Cersei’s so-called sins. If that were so, he would demand the boy king he controls be hanged._

“I thought Jaime Lannister would kill them all when he returned from Sunspear,” Ardrian said.

“He still might when he returns with his army from Riverrun,” she countered, knowing Cersei could still get revenge herself. _She is an idiot, but she still holds enough power to strike at the High Sparrow if she is patient._

“When shall our King return from Essos?” Lord Ardrian asked, knowing their plans could have changed in the time he spent away from Blackwater Bay.

“Three moons, four at the most,” she promised, fighting the feelings that stirred within her when she thought of laying eyes upon her daughter’s face again. Every day, she wondered what her great-grandchildren would look like. As year after year passed, Rhaella had become more and more restless. Some days, she considered abandoning Dragonstone for Lord Monford or Jonothor Darry to rule while she took a ship across the Narrow Sea to be with her blood. “If that is all my Lord, my servants will have guest chambers prepared for you and we will discuss more of this at dinner in the Great Hall.”

“Your Grace,” Lord Ardrian said, standing from his chair before bidding them farewell until later.

“He is a good man,” she said after the Lord of Claw Isle left the Chamber of the Painted Table. The sound of a huff drew her attention from the entrance to Monford seated to her left. He looked displeased about what she had to say. _I thought he liked Lord Ardrian._ “What? You disagree.”

“Its not that,” he responded, a bit uncomfortably.

“You are jealous,” she stated, finally reading the emotions on his face, now clear for her to see.

“And what if I am?” he questioned as she stood from her seat, gently making her way, one step at a time, to her lover. He kept his lordly posture as she ever so slightly swayed her hips on approach, hoping to stir the beast that could be found within every man.

“Oh, my love, do not worry about Lord Ardrian. He was a good friend to me when I was just a little girl and continued to support me when I was wed to Aerys. You think I would bring shame to my House, sleeping with a married lord?” she replied, carefully straddling her lover.

“Of course not,” he replied, wanting to continue until she sealed her lips with his, ending the conversation there. As Monford began to taste her lips, carefully plunging his tongue into her own, Rhaella found herself rolling her hips into his.

She felt his cock begging to come free from his breeches, seeking her entrance. Rhaella was tempted to acquiesce and relieve the tension that had built up within her as she felt his strong hands run through her simple braided hair. Thinking better of it, she pulled back from his attentions, staring into his eyes as his hands fell to her hips, keeping her in place.

“Not here. Not now,” she said, seeing the disappointment in his face.

“But…,” he tried to protest before she placed her finger on his lips.

“Escort me to my chambers, Lord Velaryon,” she commanded, arching an eyebrow, letting him know what she meant. Sometimes she had to make things quite obvious for her lover.

Withdrawing from his lap, she stood to gather her wits and smooth out her ruffled hair so as to keep a respectable appearance to those they may cross within the castle. Monford was quick to find his feet and extend an arm to escort her back to their bedchambers where she would show him how much he pleased her. She hoped she brought him the same care and joy she felt in his presence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much happens in this chapter except for the news from Dorne. Every chapter from here until the end will be longer and filled with more action, plot intrigue, reunions, character development, etc. Next chapter is called Black & White. POVs will come from Rhaenys, Jon, & a certain someone in Braavos. And finally, season 8 is here!


	33. Black & White

**Rhaenys Targaryen**

“There you are my cute little prince. Go to sleep now,” she cooed in Valyrian at her son Aeryn while laying him down next to his twin brother, already fast asleep after being fed. He looked like he was still wide awake and hungry until she watched him slowly rest his eyes. It was always a struggle to get the little ones to sleep and eat at the same time. If it were not for their maids, Lyanna, and her mother, Rhaenys questioned how she could take care of them all at once. _It was hard enough getting Ashara and Viserra settled into their cribs._

Walking back over to her little daughters to make sure they were still asleep, she took a moment to cherish their state of peace. Both looked like the most peaceful things to grace the world. _It will not be like this forever. Soon enough, they will grow and have boys chasing after them in the Red Keep._

“Are they asleep?” Daenerys asked in a near whisper, standing in the doorway. Rhaenys could not help but admire Daenerys’ Meereenese dress. It complimented her features and drove Jon mad. _It certainly bares more skin than the dresses found in Westeros._ Rhaenys wore a similar dress, except for hers was red instead of white and bared more of her chest.

“Yes, is it time already?” she responded, glancing back down at her babes wrapped in warm blankets.

“Missandei told me the supper should be ready soon,” Daenerys said.

“I am coming. I just wanted to make sure they were all asleep before I left. I do not want Doreah having to put them back to sleep again,” she told Daenerys, walking toward her.

Leaving the nursery, Rhaenys walked beside Daenerys past the ten Unsullied assigned to guard their children’s room along with Snow who was taking her turn to protect the little ones. _We never even have to tell them. They take turns standing guard themselves._

“Are you worried for Arianne?” Daenerys asked with a comforting hand on Rhaenys’ arm.

“Actually, no. I think she can handle this on her own, with Edric’s help. She was born to rule Dorne. If little Sansa Stark can grow to become the Lady of the Eyrie and play Littlefinger for the fool, then I think Arianne can handle Ellaria Sand,” she responded. Daenerys laughed at her mention of Sansa Stark’s transformation from an innocent, stupid maid into a lady who now wielded great power. _I would never have guessed it. The girl I remember was naïve, even for her age. I should like to meet the woman she has become._

“She certainly surprised me. I am sure Lord Arryn is happy to have found himself such a beautiful wife who is more than she appears,” Daenerys added as they moved through the grand solar, out of the manse. There, Rhaenys saw their family seated around a grand table near the entrance to the gardens in the shadow of their manse. From the table, they were able to spend many nights looking out at the sunset over the western horizon.

Jon turned in his seat at the head of the table, smiling as they approached. Both she and Daenerys kissed him before moving on to take their seats. She found herself seated next to Visenya while Daenerys sat at Jon’s left with Lyanna on her other side. Further down the table, she saw Grey Worm and Missandei seated next to each other as was expected. Davos sat opposite Jon at the other end. _Varys and Tyrion are going to drive him mad. They like to talk._

Around the table sat their bloodriders, along with Irri and Jhiqui, now wed to Rakharo and Kovarro respectively. Ser Jorah and the recently legitimized Aurane Velaryon were also seated at the table. Arya and Rhaegar were going on about something regarding swords with Lyanna and Jorah. Rhaenys’ own mother was seated on the other side of her oldest two, making sure they were behaving themselves before the food was served.

“Was it much trouble getting them to sleep? I could have helped,” Jon said before Daenerys cut him off.

“That isn’t necessary. You are the King and needed to see to the affairs of Pentos before we leave. The city needs its King. We can handle a few restless babes,” Daenerys jested, placing her hand over Jon’s.

“And what did the Pentoshi want from their King?” Rhaenys asked. It seemed like the magisters in the city wanted to meet with them every day. One day they were arguing over some trade dispute and the other, they would complain of the way they were required to treat the smallfolk.

“Taxes,” Visenya spoke up.

“They are taxed the same as everyone else,” she countered, wondering why this was an issue for the Pentoshi. _We are not greedy. Many others in our position would be inclined to tax their lords and subjects far more._

“Before we left Pentos years ago, they were hardly taxed at all. We wanted to keep the peace and hold onto the city while travelling to Vaes Dothrak. The magisters have gotten comfortable with what they paid. I cannot blame them. I made it clear they were treated the same as everyone else and it was time for Pentos to contribute like the rest,” Jon stated.

“Ah, look, the food is being served,” her mother said to her children that were beginning to grow restless. Rhaenys turned to her left to find servants carrying numerous plates covered with pork, lamb, lemoncakes, cheese, fish, pigeon pie, and countless other foods that made their simple dinner look closer to a feast. After the ten or so servants placed the food on their table, she saw several more come to the table with pitchers of water and wine.

Rhaenys saw Aegon already begin to push his greens to the side, much to her amusement. _Children._ She wasn’t going to let him get away with it this time and grabbed hold of his hand gripping the fork. As she guided his hand toward the turnips and peppers on his plate, she felt something splash on her face. _Seven hells! Can they not even pour water into a…_ Rhaenys froze as she felt that it was not water that spilled onto her face and clothing. The warmth and smell were unmistakable. _Blood._

Looking down at her dress, she could see blood splattered across her red dress, nearly matching its color. Fear gripped her as she turned in an instant to make sure her children were safe before gathering her senses as everything went quiet. Her heart was pumping as fast as it could until she heard the sound of their direwolves viciously growling, tearing through meat and bone. Standing from her seat to protect her children, Rhaenys turned around to find a servant being torn apart by Shadow in a pool of blood on the pale marble stones.

Their family’s peaceful dinner had turned to chaos as Jon unsheathed Blackfyre with their Kingsguard moving around to protect them from what was happening. Ghost and Silver were tearing apart two more servants while Zokla chased after another nearly fifty feet away, trying to flee. _This is Cersei’s work. I will burn her son in front of her eyes before she meets the same fate._

Rhaenys’ attention was again captured by her direwolf ripping apart the throat and torso of the servant who meant them harm. They had never attacked anyone else and she knew whatever was in their pitchers was meant to kill everyone at their table. The only thing that tore her eyes away from the sight was the cries of her four children seated at the table. Her mother was already trying to calm Valarr and Daenys.

It crushed her to see the frightened faces of her oldest. Aegon always played a brave knight, but he was only a child. Fear was painted on his face with blood painted on his black and red doublet. Acting on pure instinct, Rhaenys pulled her children close to her, not letting anything get to them. Shielding them from the brutal sight mere feet away, she held there faces close to her so they would not see such things. “Everything is alright. Everything is alright. Your mother won’t let anything happen to you,” she said through slight tears of her own. It was a mixture of fear for nearly losing them and uncontrollable rage for the person who sent assassins after children.

“Jon, the babes,” Visenya cried. Instantly, Rhaenys felt her heart drop at the thought of their smallest, precious little ones being in any sort of danger.

Not even saying a word, she heard her husband run off with the rest of the men into the manse to kill any man or woman who meant their family harm. Rhaenys felt helpless, sitting there waiting. All she could do was protect the children with her. _Curse them. Curse them all. All our enemies will pay for this. I will not show them any mercy. I will take everything they hold dear and burn it before their eyes._

As her son and daughter sobbed in her arms, she finally looked around to see Daenerys and Visenya doing the same with their children. She caught Visenya’s eye and they both shared a look of helplessness. _Will it ever end? Will our family ever find peace?_

As more Unsullied poured through their manse and into the gardens around them, Rhaenys began to worry for their little ones. _Jon is still gone. Where is he?_ It felt like an eternity since he left with his sword in hand, ready to kill any man who meant their children harm. _Where is he? He should be back by now!_

“Everything is going to be fine. Your father will be back,” she tried to comfort her children who were mumbling for Jon to return. _Or am I saying it to comfort my own fear?_

“Kepa!” she heard Arya scream, running over to Jon with Blackfyre sheathed at his hip. Her eyes examined his face, his clothes, his hands, everything about him. Rhaenys did not find any blood on him and calmed herself. His face said it all. If their children were harmed in any way, he would be broken or in a murderous rage. Jon scooped Arya off the ground, running his hand through her silver hair as if trying to confirm she was unhurt.

“They are safe. Everything appeared normal. No one entered their room without getting past Snow. I have tripled the guard around the nursery and have our men searching the surrounding lands,” Jon said with Arya wrapping her tiny arms around his neck.

From the corner of her eye, she caught Varys examining the lifeless body of the assassin who intended to poison them all. _What is he doing?_ She could not understand what more Varys needed to see. _The servants in the manse were obviously assassins sent by Cersei, waiting for them to drop their guard._

What happened next shocked her. Varys knelt on the ground and placed his hand on the face of the corpse. The Spider pulled the face off the servant as easily as a whore discarding her clothes. _What sort of magic is this?_ Underneath the skin was another face, belonging to a man instead of the woman she thought had been killed by Shadow.

“It’s as I suspected. Faceless Men from Braavos. It appears the Iron Bank and the Sealord have thrown in with Cersei,” Varys said, standing up and away from the body.

“Are you sure?” Daenerys asked, keeping Rhaegar, Eddard, and Senya close to her side.

“I am afraid so my Queen. If the rumors of the Faceless Men are true, only the Iron Bank and the Sealord would be able to pay your deaths,” Varys replied.

“Mother, would you please take the children to their rooms,” Jon asked Lyanna, who was quick to oblige, gathering them all to follow her with her own mother’s help.

“No! Father, I don’t want to leave you,” Arya tried to protest, being pulled from Jon’s arms.

“It will be alright Arya. I will come find you soon. Be a brave girl and look after your sisters, will you?” Jon said, earning a tearful nod from Arya. Once the children were gone and out of sight, she watched Jon finally lose his composure and throw a chair out of his way. “They are going to pay for this,” he muttered, trying to collect himself, realizing he still needed to play the part of a King. Just for once she wanted to see his rage.

“We need to march north and burn the Iron Bank to the ground. Harrenhal will look merciful after I am done with them,” Visenya vowed, fuming with her knuckles turning white as she gripped Dark Sister.

“We will. Rakharo, gather the khalasar and ride for Braavos as soon as possible. Davos, have our fleet prepared to sail within five days. We are sailing for Braavos,” Jon commanded their men.

Following Jon’s orders, their closest advisors and top commanders left to see their forces prepared for the coming battle for Braavos. Not even Tyrion protested the course of action. _At least he is wise enough not to test us right now._

Seeing that they were alone except for Ser Arthur and the Unsullied standing guard, Jon pulled all three of them into his embrace. She felt his hand brush her hair and touch her face as if he were searching for any unseen cuts from an assassin’s blade. “Are you feeling well? Are you unharmed?” he stammered, looking each of them with concern.

“We are fine. The blood is from the assassin. Do not worry about us,” she replied, burying her face into his chest. It was where she felt safest, in his arms, protected from the world.

“I do not know what I would do if I lost any of you. The Braavosi will suffer for this. I swear it. We will kill them all. The Iron Bank. The Faceless Men. All of them,” Jon said with anger poured into every word. _I cannot remember a time I have seen him this angry. Meereen perhaps? No, this was even worse._ Rhaenys herself had not felt such rage since losing Aegon and her father.

“Do you think Illyrio had anything to do with it?” Daenerys asked.

“No, he isn’t bold enough. If he was behind it, they would have tried to poison us sooner. This was their first attempt. The real servants were likely killed this morning or last night. If they had been around before, the direwolves would have sensed it,” Jon told her. _I will never let our children go anywhere without one now. They saved our lives._

“Why are we waiting? We should fly for Braavos now. What can they do to our dragons?” Daenerys asked, looking like she was ready to burn the entire world. Rhaenys could sense she was fighting to control her emotions.

“I want to burn that city to the ground as much as you do, but we can’t. We will take the city and hunt down all of those who were involved in this. Dragonfire would not see them all dead. Some would get away. If we surround the city, we will close in around them, and kill them all,” he said, holding them close.

 

It was several hours past sunset and Rhaenys could not go to sleep, despite how hard she tried. Jon was still examining the walls of their manse and ordering their Unsullied to set up new guard positions. Part of her wanted to tell him to trust Grey Worm and Ser Barristan to handle such things, but another part of her only felt safe with him protecting their family.

The moment Shadow killed her would-be assassin was still going through her head. She could picture it all, clear as day. Rhaenys could still feel the warm blood spray onto her face. She still remembered the sense of everything slowing down and the world going silent. The cries of her panicked children still ring in her ears. _I could have lost everything. My children could have lost everything. We have so many enemies now. We must kill them all. Our children should not come of age and continue to fight our wars. I will not allow that to happen._

Even if she could not sleep, she was relieved to see her four eldest sleeping with their limbs draped across her. She prayed this would become a memory long forgotten and pushed away like so many are for children of their age. _They are sleeping peacefully now. I could not bear it if they were wracked with nightmares filled with bloodshed and violence._

Daenys began to stir, clutching her arm and shifting her tiny head against her shoulder. Rhaenys tilted her head to look down at her little princess to make sure she was not scared. Her worry was unfounded once she saw Daenys was only shifting in her sleep, trying to get more comfortable. Rhaenys made sure to look at her other three children and confirm they were sleeping like babes.

Her thoughts were still filled with hate and revenge. All she could think of was how they were going to make the Iron Bank suffer for this crime. _I am not sure we were ever going to take Braavos, despite its support for the slavers. The war with Cersei and the great war to come were going to consume us. The Braavosi will no longer be free of Valyrian rule, that I can guarantee._

“Are you awake?” she heard her sister whisper, causing her to tear her gaze from the ceiling to Visenya lying next to her with her own little ones.

“Of course, I am awake. I don’t think I will be able to sleep for many nights,” she whispered back, hoping not to wake their children.

“We will get them. We will get them all,” Visenya promised just as she heard Jon walking through their solar toward their bedchamber. She could not say what it was, but she always recognized the sound of him marching toward their bedchambers to return to her every night. _It could just be that no other man is marching toward our chambers at night._

It was hard to make out his figure as he began to remove his sword belt and boots in their room. It was nearly pitch black and Daenerys had put out the last of their candles earlier after it kept Senya awake. Jon did not even bother to change clothes and slowly crept his way onto the bed between Visenya and Daenerys. She was amazed to see none of the children wake up from the movement as her husband settled in for the night.

“There were no signs of them. We searched the nearby manses and surrounding lands, but found nothing,” Jon softly spoke with frustration and a tinge of anger. _It could have been all of them. Even if there are more of them, how would we know? Men who change faces are men not easy to find. Only the direwolves can perform such a trick._

“We have to warn my mother. What if they go after her?” Daenerys replied. Rhaenys had not heard such worry from her in a long time. Daenerys always put on a strong façade that gave the impression nothing would make her fear something.

“I have already sent a ship to Dragonstone warning them. The castle gates will be barred and no one will be allowed in until we have conquered Braavos,” Jon addressed her concern, leaving a kiss on her brow.

“What about the Khalasar?” Rhaenys asked, hoping they were already riding north toward the Braavosi Coastlands.

“They leave on the morrow. I have given them orders to surround the city and allow no one to leave. We will set sail as soon as possible. We do not need all our ships. Only the warships needed to fight the Sealord if he knows we are coming,” Jon assured her.

“We will burn their ships before it comes to that,” Daenerys vowed.

“I spoke with Davos. Taking the city will not be easy. The terrain is rough surrounding the city and the streets will not favor our Dothraki if the Braavosi are smart. Entering the harbor will be the most difficult part. The Titan guards the entrance and Davos says it will need to be burned before our ships can pass,” Jon said.

“Will we ever escape Essos? Just as soon as we are close to returning home, a new threat arises,” Visenya replied, frustrated they were not sailing west.

“This is it. When we are done with Braavos, we are sailing home. No more delays. No more cities to conquer. No more magisters to deal with. We are going home and taking back King’s Landing,” Jon promised.

 

 

**Jon Targaryen**

“How many days?” Jon asked from his position overlooking the port of Pentos from an open window in Aurane Velaryon’s makeshift office. The room was filled with sea charts, navigational tools, and books covering all matters regarding the seas. The Master of Ships’ brother had taken over the building that was home to the tax collectors of Pentos. From where he stood, Jon could see his sailors working hard to make the fleet ready for war.

“Two, your Grace. All of the longships are ready. The last of the war galleys still need work,” Lord Davos answered, sitting in a chair next to Aurane Velaryon.

“In two days, we set sail,” he replied, reminding himself he needed to be patient. Since the attempted murder of his family, all Jon could think of was mounting Vermithrex and flying to Braavos. He wanted revenge and wanted the Braavosi dead. _The Faceless Men. The Iron Bank. The Sealord. All of them._

“We will take the city in a day, my King. The Braavosi will pay for their crimes. Their fleet does not have any hope against the Royal Fleet. Allow me to lead the attack and I will have the Sealord’s fleet sinking to the bottom of his own harbor,” Aurane Velaryon vowed with the confidence of a sea captain who had never come close to defeat. _I heard stories of his victories during the Greyjoy Rebellion. He will have even greater numbers in his favor against the Braavosi._

Hearing Davos Seaworth grumble in disagreement, Jon turned his gaze from the furled black sails of his ships to his Hand who failed to hide his true feelings. “You disagree?” he questioned Davos.

“I do not doubt Lord Aurane’s ability to wage war at sea, but this is Braavos. I have sailed there many times and many times I have sailed under the Titan. The Braavosi who defend the harbor will not be defeated easily. Taking the harbor will be hard. Only so many ships can pass under the Titan and they will not pass without being attacked from above,” Davos answered.

“Leave the Titan to us,” Jon countered. He was not familiar with Braavos, having never been there. However, he did know of the Titan of Braavos and the defenses it provided the free city. He had already discussed the problem it would pose to their ships with his queens. It was decided he and Visenya would burn the men who manned its defenses. “Lord Aurane, you may leave us. I must speak with my Hand. See to it the galleys are being prepared to follow us to Braavos.”

“Your Grace,” Aurane replied, standing from his chair to leave.

“You think him overconfident,” Jon said after waiting for the skilled captain to leave.

“I hold nothing against Lord Aurane, but fighting pirates and other captains at sea is different than sailing straight into Braavos. They will know we are coming and will be prepared. It is a good thing we have dragons,” Davos answered, walking across the room to stand next to him at the window.

“Aye,” Jon replied, looking back out at the ocean.

“You have not told me what you plan to do with the Braavosi,” Davos said, searching his face for answers before he could reply.

“There is nothing to discuss. The Faceless Men. The Sealord. The Iron Bank. They will all burn,” he told his Hand who looked apprehensive about the matter. “You disapprove?”

“I know what they did. I was there and could have been killed. They tried to kill you and your entire family. I understand the anger. That does not mean an entire city must burn,” Davos let his worry be known.

“Nor shall it. Do you think I would do such a thing?” he asked. _Do people fear I will become my grandfather?_

“No, your Grace. I am advising you to use caution and not let the battle for Braavos get out of hand. You have asked me to be honest with you and this is me being honest with you. The Dothraki know why they ride for Braavos and could see it as an opportunity to sack a city as they did in the past,” Davos said. “And if I may, Queen Rhaenys and Queen Daenerys are quick to lose their temper from time to time.”

“Do not worry about them Davos. They would never burn a city,” he told his Hand. Turning his attention back to the busy port below, three ships approaching from the sea caught his eye. The sable sails with a kraken painted on them stirred a hidden rage in his heart. “Seven hells, what are they doing here?”

Davos seemed to eventually catch on to what he was reacting to when his Hand spoke, “Greyjoys? What have they come for?”

“Nothing good,” he responded, fixated on the approaching longships. The Iron Islands had not really occupied his thoughts since Robb retook the North. He knew he would need to force the Ironborn to bend the knee and establish a peace along the western shores of Westeros. The Ironborn were not ones to show fealty and Jon knew that likely meant another war. The only path he saw forward was the destruction of House Greyjoy. _And now the Greyjoys are here. Why?_ “Have them sent to our manse and be sure to take their weapons from them.”

 

“Greyjoys? We should take their heads and throw them into the sea they love so much,” Visenya replied with a fiery response after he informed her of what he saw.

“Why do you think they have come?” Daenerys asked, seated in their solar with a calm face. Underneath her cool expression, Jon found the blood of the dragon raging. Jon knew Daenerys would never forgive Theon Greyjoy or any of the Ironborn after killing Maester Luwin and Ser Rodrik Cassel. _I will never forgive. I know I will not forget._

“There can be only one reason. They are fighting each other for the Salt Throne,” Jon answered. He knew there must have been a kingsmoot after Balon Greyjoy’s death, but he was not aware of how it worked. As a child, he was never interested in the Ironborn nor their traditions of old. _Not even Visenya liked to read about their histories._

“Why would they come to us? They know where we stand on their invasion of the North,” Rhaenys added, with Shadow laying on the floor at her feet.

“Because, whoever is King of the Iron Islands now has joined with the Lannisters,” Jon said, knowing there was nowhere else for them to go. _Who will it be? One of Theon’s uncles? His sister?_

“Visenya is right. We could just have them killed and be done with it. We do not need a Greyjoy to make the Ironborn bend the knee,” Daenerys said, resting her hand on her growing stomach.

“If one of Balon’s brothers has come to bend the knee, we should consider our options. Aegon the Conqueror allowed his enemies to bend the knee and helped them rise to their feet. If I am to be a good King, that includes ruling the Iron Islands. I hate the Greyjoys, but their House has ruled them for centuries. It will be easier to control them with a Greyjoy than without,” he responded. The words stung on his lips. _Am I wrong? Should we start over and find a new lord to rule over the Iron Islands?_

 

After spending nearly an hour discussing how they would handle the Greyjoys and the Iron Islands, Jon sat in the small throne room on the southern side of their manse. It was not comparable to the throne room in the Red Keep or at Dragonstone, but Jon did not mind. Daenerys sat to his left as still as a statue while Visenya stirred with rage to his right. Rhaenys sat the chair to Visenya’s right.

Besides Lord Davos and Ser Jorah seated next to Daenerys, Varys and Tyrion Lannister were also there to hear what the Greyjoys had come to offer. Melisandre stood in the far corner, uninterested in the matters of court. Grey Worm and Missandei were also present while the Kingsguard stood behind Jon and his Queens.

Jon’s questions were finally answered when he saw two of their Unsullied walk into the room in their typical armor with a woman following close behind. She was certainly a lady from the Iron Islands. Her attire and the way she carried herself was not that of a lady of the South, nor the North. _One of Balon’s brothers has taken the Iron Islands. Now Yara Greyjoy comes for our help to take it back._

He was ready to allow Yara Greyjoy to bend the knee and support her claim to rule the Iron Islands as the Lady of Pyke until he saw the man walking behind her. Clenching his fists on the arms of his throne, Jon could no longer sit there. As he walked down the three small steps from where he sat, Jon saw Theon realize he was an unwelcome visitor. _I should take his head with Blackfyre._

“Jon…,” Theon tried to get out before he was stopped. Marching straight past Yara Greyjoy, Jon went straight at Theon, who did not flinch as Jon threw his fist into his face. It felt numb as he hit the man he thought he knew in Winterfell. He never particularly liked Theon, but he did think he held enough honor not to murder children and betray House Stark. _He was a hostage, but Uncle Ned was more of a father to him than Balon ever was._

Resisting the urge to inflict more damage upon Theon, Jon thought the better of it, knowing it would not be kingly to beat a man who was his guest. As he glared at Theon, he saw the rumors of what happened to Theon at the hands of Ramsay Snow were true. It did not take more than one look for someone who knew Theon to realize he had changed. _If he was still the same, he would have a shitty smirk on his face and some vulgar insult for me. All I see is a coward. Defeated and weak._

“Give me one reason why I should not have you killed,” Jon said, staring at Theon bleeding on the floor. Finally, tired of looking at Theon, Jon turned to Yara Greyjoy. “Why should I let any of you live?”

“The Stark boys are alive. My brother did not kill them. Robb Stark took back Winterfell and there are no Ironborn in the North. We have ships to help you blockade King’s Landing and take back Westeros,” Yara responded.

“What about Ser Rodrik? What about Maester Luwin? What about countless others at Winterfell and across the North who lie in the ground because of you?” Visenya asked behind him, unable to control her anger.

“If I could take it all back I would,” Theon answered with what looked to be true remorse. Jon did not care for his remorse. _It will not bring them back. It will not fix what he did._

“I presume you have come to bend the knee to your rightful King and Queens,” Daenerys replied after Jon remained silent, staring both Greyjoys down.

“I came here to offer my ships to help you take back your throne in return for your help killing an uncle or two who do not think a woman is fit to rule. Your ancestors conquered ours and took the Iron Islands. We ask you give them back,” Yara replied.

“House Greyjoy swore fealty to House Targaryen into perpetuity. Your father broke those vows. You broke those vows invading the North. Does it look like we need the ships? One way or another, the Iron Islands will bend the knee,” Jon answered forcefully, not letting Yara think she had any chance of dictating the terms. By the look on her face, she expected to hear what he said and seemed willing to accept his terms. “If you bend the knee, I will name you the Lady of Pyke and Lady of the Iron Islands.”

“I accept those…,” Yara replied before he stopped her.

“There will be no reaving and raping,” he said.

“But that is our way of life,” Yara protested with a look of despair. _She should try stopping the Dothraki from raping and pillaging._

“No more,” he replied, not giving her an inch to negotiate further. He could tell she was contemplating the terms, knowing it went against everything the Ironborn knew.

“No more, my King,” Yara replied after a momentary pause, bending the knee. Theon followed her lead, bending the knee as well. _If Robb ever gets his hands on Theon, I will not stop him._

“Rise,” he commanded the Greyjoys after they spent some time on their knees bending the knee to their King. “We sail for Braavos in two days. You will lead our fleet into the harbor to attack the Braavosi fleet.”

“Braavos?” Yara asked with a confused face.

“Aye. You and your men will only need to focus on the Braavosi navy. Our armies will take the city. Aurane Velaryon will lead the attack by sea. He will tell you where your ships need to be,” he informed her. Jon knew Yara was not pleased to learn she would be taking orders from a Velaryon. The Greyjoys never liked the lords of Driftmark and hated any family who could rival them at sea.

After further discussions with his advisors and his new allies, Jon waited for everyone to leave except for his Queens and Kingsguard. Yara Greyjoy was insistent on forming her own plan of attack against the Braavosi, dismissing Aurane Velaryon’s plans without any concern of ingratiating herself with his advisors. Jon noticed Theon remained silent throughout and did all he could to avoid looking them in the face. _He is lucky I am letting him live._

“Do you trust them?” Rhaenys asked once they were alone.

“No, but Yara Greyjoy is the best we can do. I will never trust the Ironborn. She will prove her loyalty when we attack Braavos. And if our Ironborn allies perish, so be it. Better them than our men. I still hate Theon, but you saw him. He does not have the courage to betray us,” Jon said. _If the Greyjoys prove to be as skilled at fighting at sea as they proclaim, then we will destroy the Braavosi fleet with ease. And if they do not, then we have less Ironborn to deal with._

“You think she can really keep the Iron Islands in check and keep the peace along the Sunset Sea?” Daenerys asked.

“Better her than the others. The men who sided with Euron Greyjoy will never follow our laws. The men who follow her are the few Ironborn who would follow a woman. If they are willing to do that, then they can keep themselves from reaving, raping, and taking saltwives. And if they do not, we will finish what my father started and burn Pyke to the ground,” he said.

“Should we send ships to Dragonstone? What if Euron Greyjoy plans to attack?” Visenya asked with concern for their grandmother. Their new allies warned them of the number of ships Euron would be able to muster for the Lannisters.

“Even if he can build a thousand ships, he cannot defeat our fleet at Dragonstone and Driftmark. If he is going to attack any of our forces, it will be when we are divided and it is to his advantage,” Jon said. _Unless Euron is mad enough to think he can take Dragonstone by himself._ Jon did not worry like Visenya did because he knew any attack on Dragonstone would be prolonged and give them enough time to react. They could fly to Dragonstone in a day.

 

 

**Arya Stark**

_I am not No One. I am Arya Stark of Winterfell._

It was a relief to wake up without the pain. She could not tell how long she had slept. _Was it hours? No. Was it a day? More?_ Flickering her eyes open, Arya reacquainted herself with the room she was staying in. Sunlight beamed through the open windows, revealing everything was how it was when she arrived, hurt and alone. Lady Crane was the only person in Braavos she could turn to. _Not the Waif. Not Jaqen H’ghar. The Waif hates me, but she would never kill me without his instruction. No, she is not the Waif and he is not Jaqen H’ghar. They are No One. I am not No One._

Lady Crane’s room was small but pleasant, especially for a place she had only lived for the past four months. It felt like a home to Arya, or at least the closest thing she had felt to a home since leaving the Red Keep. _The only thing that made Maegor’s Holdfast feel like a home was my family. Now they are spread across the world. Robb and Mother are back in Winterfell. Sansa is in King’s Landing. Jon and Visenya are in Pentos. I am so stupid. I should have gone home to Winterfell or sailed to Slaver’s Bay. No, the Bay of Dragons._

Arya wished she could take it all back. She listened to the Hound and thought her brother was dead. The fighting in the Northern camp outside the Twins looked like he was betrayed. They thought him dead and made for the Eyrie, only to find out her Aunt Lysa was dead. Her coin from Jaqen H’ghar was all she had. _All I had to become something else. To become a Faceless Man. To kill Joffrey and Cersei and the Mountain and Tywin and Ilyn Payne and Meryn Trant._

Every day she heard stories from the east of her cousins conquering cities and lands with their dragons, self-doubt consumed her. It felt like she had made a mistake with every decision she took after leaving King’s Landing. _I was a stupid girl like Sansa. A stupid girl who was afraid. I cannot be afraid any longer._

The Hound was the first to tell her of the dragons. When she first heard whispers of the dragons flying over Meereen, she dismissed it as sailor’s tales, meant to entertain the locals in taverns. She had seen the skulls of the dragons in the catacombs below the Red Keep. Arya wondered how large her cousins’ dragons were now. As time passed and the more she heard of the Targaryens having dragons, Arya lost any shred of doubt she held of their existence. _If anyone could bring them back, it was him and Visenya and Daenerys and Rhaenys. They are dragons._

Arya tried to imagine what it looked like, Jon flying into battle over Volantis with his Queens, burning the slavers. _It must be like Aegon the Conqueror and his sisterwives, taking the Seven Kingdoms. And I am stuck here, wounded by No One. I should have seen her coming._

The sound of something heavy hitting the floor outside the room interrupted her thoughts. “Lady Crane? Lady Crane?” she called for her friend, willing herself out of the bed. Her muscles felt tired and her stomach still felt odd, but the sharp pain was no longer there. Lady Crane’s care had brought her back to health.

Stepping slowly from the bed without hearing a response, Arya edged step by step closer to the doorway. The air was eerily silent. She could not even hear the sounds of Braavos outside the window. As soon as she peered into the hallway, she found Lady Crane lying on the floor with her throat cut outside in the doorway of another room.

“If you would have done your job, she would have died painlessly. Instead, the Many-Faced God was promised a name. He must always receive what is his. I cannot change that. You cannot change that. No one can,” the Waif said, walking towards her with a knife in hand, causing Arya to walk backwards. “And now he has been promised another name.” _I cannot hesitate._

Not letting the Waif get the best of her again, Arya turned on her heels, running toward the small balcony connected to her room. Ignoring the chance of breaking her legs, she leapt over the cast iron railing, guiding her jump with her hands on the sunbaked iron. The drop to the cobblestone street below was shorter than she imagined as she landed perfectly on her feet, as light as a cat. _Syrio would smile._

The Waif had not jumped after her and Arya bolted down the street, running as fast as she could. Snaking her way through the Braavosi walking along the street, Arya felt the effects of her wound and her time laid up in Lady Crane’s bed. Her legs did not carry her as fast as they had before. She was tired and her body still needed to recover. _This is no time for rest. I have to lead her to Needle._

Knowing she could not make this too easy for the Waif, Arya passed two narrow alleys before darting into the third. As quick as she could, she ran down the uneven cobblestone steps down the alley in the shadow of the buildings of Braavos. Nearing the bottom of the small hill, Arya changed direction and headed down another alley. This one was filled with crates and discarded items no one wanted. She could not let the obstacles slow her, leading her to leap over some and dive under others, such as the broken wagon at the end of the alley.

Peaking over her shoulder, Arya found no sign of the Waif. Turning down another alley, Arya saw steam rising from an open doorway. The building looked familiar and she realized it was one of the bathhouses she passed every day for the past fortnight. Pushing through the pain, she ran for the open door and entered the darkness. Inside, she slowed her pace, walking quickly past the rooms hoping to go unnoticed before finding the exit onto the street.

Luckily, the bathhouse proved to be built on a rather simple layout. Arya found her way to the street that was a marketplace full of merchants selling their goods. _I have lost her for now. Come on, you can do better._ Gathering her breath, Arya walked slowly, making it seem like she wanted to blend in with the rest of Braavos.

The sound of wood crashing and cloth tearing behind her back caused her to turnaround at the Waif who had jumped from a nearby rooftop. The smirk on her face made Arya’s blood boil. _I need to keep up the mummery of a scared girl._

Arya ran faster and faster, pushing anyone in her way aside. Several times, she nearly tripped and stumbled over someone’s feet and the occasional loose stone on the ground. Weaving in and out of the crowd filtering into the market made her nervous she has miscalculated her plan.

The Waif was nearly on her until she leapt from a high ledge onto the stone stairs where fruits were traded. Arya panicked as she fell through the air with the knowledge this landing would not stick. The first thing she hit was a box full of apples. Her body crashed through the crate, sending the fruit tumbling down the stairs. Unable to stop her fall, Arya rolled down the stairs, knocking over all of the food for sale. Merchants were yelling at her as she went crashing through everything in her path.

Finally coming to a stop near the bottom of the stairs, Arya saw the area in chaos as the poorer people in the market were scrambling to snatch the fruits strewn across the stone stairs. She caught the Waif staring her down and knew she had to continue her flight to her hidden sword. _Now is the time. I am close._

Arya found what little strength she had left in her legs and ran down the street as fast as she could. It wasn’t until she saw the right alley and set of stairs leading to her hideout that she slowed down. Making sure not to lose the Waif, Arya made sure to wipe some of the blood still coming from her wound along the brick walls she passed. _I will leave enough of a trail to lure her in._

After working her way through the maze of alleys in Braavos, Arya reached her hideout at an unremarkable white stone building that looked like all the rest. Rushing through the front door and climbing the stairs to the second floor, Arya pushed her door open and scrambled to the back of the small room she paid for.

In the back corner of the room, she pulled Needle from the wool cover she used to conceal the blade after retrieving it from the pile of rocks along the harbor at the House of Black and White. _Stick them with the pointy end._ Her pain seemed to disappear as she gripped her sword. Her only possession that reminded her of home and family.

“It will all be over soon, for you and the Targaryens. On your knees or on your feet?” the Waif spoke up from the front of her room. _Targaryens? They mean to kill my family? I should not have said anything._ Tightening her grip on Needle, Arya got off her knees and turned to face her next kill. “Haven’t we been through this already. That won’t help you.”

_No, but the darkness will._ The Waif always underestimated her and this time was no different. Locking her eyes with the Waif, Arya swiped Needle through the candle wick, sending the room into darkness. She had spent months in Braavos, blind and broken. If she had to guess, the Waif had never gone through that. _She is a good liar, but she does not act as someone who has been blind._

Relying on her ears and senses, Arya concentrated on the sound of her opponent’s breathing. The Waif slowly inched closer, moving to her right, ready to drive her knife into Arya’s heart. Arya feigned a move to her left, expecting the Waif to fall for her misstep. She could hear the sandals scrape across the floor ever so gently and twisted her body back and to her right, avoiding the Waif’s extended arm.

With Needle in her left hand, Arya drove her sword through the Waif’s undefended right ankle, causing her to drop to the ground. She screamed and cursed in frustration, but Arya blocked out her voice, focusing on driving her blade through the Waif’s neck. It was a gamble, getting this close to her opponent, but Arya took it.

Unlike Polliver, she did not take her time driving Needle into the Waif. She felt her small blade run through her neck, into her mouth, and into her skull. For the briefest of moments, she heard her choking on blood before going completely silent. _I wish I could have seen the surprise on her face, if she truly was the same Waif who stabbed me._

“You were right, a girl isn’t No One. A girl is Arya Stark,” she said, looking down at the lifeless body after lighting the candles in the small, dark room.

 

She did not like it, but she had to hide Needle once again for the last time. Her sword was not discovered before, so she decided to hide it under the very same rocks it was hidden under for a year. Arya made sure no one was spying on her before she walked to the only door leading into the House of Black and White. _I first came here as Arya Stark and I will be leaving as Arya Stark. But for now, I will become No One and play the Waif._

As she took the final steps up to the ebony and weirwood doors, Arya took a moment to prepare herself. She tried to go over every memory and observation she recollected with the Waif. She needed to have her voice, appearance, manners, and other queues only a Faceless Man could put on. It was time and Arya forced herself to knock on the door in the same manner as every servant of the Many-Faced God did when they reached the House of Black and White.

The door opened and she was greeted by an unfamiliar face that could be worn by a familiar person. She did not know and did not want to know. She was taking a risk and had to trust in her own deception. _If they see me for who I truly am, I am dead. At least I will die Arya Stark of Winterfell._

She followed the man in his simple grey robes through the main hall and to the stairs leading to the top floor reserved for the servants of the Many-Faced God. The temple was still dark and unwelcoming. _I thought I belonged here. I thought this could be home, where I could learn to get revenge for my father. I was wrong. So wrong._

“They are all here. We failed in Pentos and now we must decide how the Many-Faced God will get what he is owed,” the mysterious man said as she continued to follow him. She said nothing for fear of giving herself away. Faceless Men were not much for words and she would use that to her benefit. _Is he speaking of Jon and Visenya? Have they tried to kill my family? I will kill them all._

She wanted to come back here and give the Waif’s face to the Many-Faced God. She was going to let Jaqen H’ghar know she was Arya Stark and she was done being No One. _Things have changed. I cannot walk away while they plot to kill my family._

Reaching the end of the corridor, Arya trailed carefully behind the man who let her into the House of Black and White. She had never been in this room before. Some light filtered through small crevices in the stone that made up the temple. She counted every person at the table and found eleven sitting there, discussing what was to be done next.

“They were careless. They underestimated the Targaryens and their wolves. Poison is not how the Many-Faced God wants them,” one of the men at the table said in an icy tone.

“Is it done?” Jaqen asked her, looking up from his seat near the end of the table.

“I warned you about her,” she replied, not trying to give much more away.

“Bring us drink. There is much to discuss. The Many-Faced God was promised many names. He did not receive what is his. Now go,” Jaqen ordered. Something was off, but she could not point to anything specific. _My gut tells me he knows, but he has done nothing. I am not dead yet or I am and do not know it._

The Waif always did as she was told and Arya did the same. Retreating from the room, Arya quickly walked back to the winding stairs that led to the main hall with a pitcher ready to be filled. She knew what needed to be done. It was her only option and she prayed there were no further mysteries hidden in the temple that were kept from her. _If they can sense the water comes from the pool, I am dead._

She could hear her own light steps echo through the hall as she kept her eyes peered open for anyone spying on her. _Lucky for me this isn’t the Red Keep. There are no little birds reporting to a Spider here._ Taking her time, Arya slowly poured water from the pool into the pitcher, cup by cup until it was full. _I need to hurry back before they suspect. Before Jaqen H’ghar suspects. Before No One suspects._

Again, the main hall was quiet as the crypts in Winterfell. And like the crypts, it was dark, eerie, and lit by a few candles. Standing from the pool, Arya retraced her steps to carry out what she promised herself to do.

Every step felt longer than the last as she managed to control her breathing. Killing the Waif and all the others before her was easy to a point. Her nerves were never this high. She was not scared for herself, but scared for Jon, Visenya, Aunt Lyanna, Daenerys, Rhaenys, Elia, and her nieces and nephews she never got to meet. _Allyria could even be with them. I have to protect my sister. I will not fail her. She would never fail me._

Entering the room she left, Arya found the same men in the same chairs around the table. None paid her mind as she entered with the pitcher filled with water meant to kill them. Arya walked around the table to fill the cup of the man furthest from her. Her nerves and fear were no longer present. Her hand was steady and true as she poured the water into the cup on the table.

Again and again, she poured the water that would kill every person in the room. _I only hope it does not kill them before I am done pouring. I have seen it take someone quickly._ Letting her eyes glance over the table, she noticed none of the cups had been touched yet. _Did I give myself away? Everything has gone as planned._

“No more mistakes. No more half measures. We wait for them to take the city and take the faces of their men. When their guard is down, we offer them to the Many-Faced God in the night,” one of them said before reaching for his cup, letting the water go down his throat.

All the cups were filled around the table and Arya moved to place the pitcher on the table against the wall. She did her best to look busy while lingering around to see her work finished. Fearing the water was not going to work, Arya turned just as the first man’s head hit the table. One by one, each of them succumbed to the poisoned water. All except Jaqen H’ghar.

Taking the blade she took off the Waif, Arya moved quicker than the cats in the Red Keep, placing the blade on the sweet spot of his neck. _I do not even have to try and his life will be over._ “You knew who I was, why didn’t you stop me? Why did you not warn them?”

“If the Many-Faced God wanted your life, they would have known,” Jaqen replied.

“Your lying. What is the true reason?” she asked, confused by his answer.

“Jaqen H’ghar has lied to a girl. A man has never lied to a girl. Finally, a girl is No One,” he said, still planted in his chair as still as a statue.

“A girl is Arya Stark of Winterfell. I am going home,” she told him before swiping the blade across his throat, causing blood to spray onto the table before him. _I am finally going home. I am finally returning to Westeros and to Winterfell._

Arya was done with the Faceless Men and the House of Black and White. They were all dead and no longer a threat to her family. She slowly removed the Waif’s face from her own, letting it fall to the ground with the knife she used to kill No One. She did not even bother to look around at the temple as she walked to the end of the corridor, down the stairs, across the main hall, and through the black and white doors. She would never return. _What will there be to return to? Jon will burn it to its foundation stones._

Running across the stone stairs, Arya went to retrieve Needle and the few belongings she still had. Her sword was still there and she rushed over to the small boat she had tied up at a small dock nearby. She needed to find a captain and a ship to take her across the Narrow Sea.

 

Arya looked up at the Titan for one last time. She was glad to be sailing onto the open sea again. She was ready to leave Braavos behind and never see it again. The city represented all her mistakes and regrets. _At least I was meant to be here. It was all worth it, stopping what they planned to do._

Leaning against the smooth wood of the ship’s bow with her face cooled by the wind, Arya looked forward to setting foot in Westeros. She was unable to find a captain that would take her to White Harbor. The best she could find was a ship headed to Maidenpool. _From there, I can buy a horse and ride north. I will pay the Freys a visit along the way._

News from Westeros was never clear, but she did hear the Freys were still alive and her uncle Edmure was their prisoner. She knew she could do something about that and kill the family who intended to slaughter her brother and mother. _I will make sure every Frey dies before I return home._

She considered waiting for Jon and his army to arrive, having failed to find a ship to take her to White Harbor. It was a difficult choice, but she decided against it. _They may burn Braavos to the ground with me in it. No, that isn’t Jon._ Part of her wished she would see the dragons flying across the sky as her ship’s sails pushed them through the waves. Instead, all she could see were empty skies without a dragon, seagull, or any other bird in sight.

_I will see them one day. Our family will find each other again. Starks and Targaryens. We will kill the Lannisters and get revenge for Father. For Aegon and Rhaegar._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not entirely happy with my Greyjoy plot. I tried to come up with something better, but failed to find a good way to tie up the Greyjoy loose ends. They really had nowhere to go & I decided to have them gamble to forge the alliance. Also, I did not want to come up with a plot of another family ruling the Iron Islands. Next chapter is named "Braavos & Arianne's Ascension" w/ POVs from Daenerys, Jon, Arianne, Jaime, & Robb.


	34. Braavos & Arianne's Ascension

**Daenerys Targaryen**

The city of Braavos looked peaceful from her view atop a hill on the southern edge of the harbor. She watched the lights of the city flicker in the darkness across the hundred islands that spread across the harbor. _Or so they say one hundred islands. It does not even appear to be seventy._

She had arrived in the night to find their khalasar camped in the hills covered by pine trees. Before landing in the center of their camp, Daenerys flew around the harbor, high in the night sky so as not to alert the Braavosi to their arrival. The city knew the Dothraki surrounded the harbor along the southern and eastern shores. While hard to see, it became apparent as to why no one had ever conquered Braavos. Long ago, the location of the city was a mystery and by the looks of the mountainous islands surrounding the harbor, there was only one way through to attack. _Without our dragons, could we even take this city?_

Upon landing in the Dothraki camp, she learned from Rakharo that their khalasar had taken the Braavosi coastlands as well as the lands between Braavos and the Bay of Lorath to the east. Every rider she passed looked displeased to be there. The lands were not meant for their horses. They were surrounded by water, marshland, hills, and mountains. There were no plains for them to ride and conquer. _They are used to conquering cities now. The small villages along the coastlands are not enough to quench their thirst for battle._

Even if the Dothraki were displeased with their current camp, any doubts she held regarding their morale was dispelled when they saw her or Jon or Rhaenys or Visenya riding by to examine their forces. No matter what they did, the Dothraki respected them for their strength above all else. _They may have been rapers and pillagers who stole from other men, but I fear betrayal from them less than any of the lords of Westeros. It may not be what Westeros considers honor, but there is a sort of honor within the Dothraki._

Daenerys found her eyes locked onto the temple sitting on a small island across the bay. It was hard to resist the compulsion within her to fly there and burn it to the ground. As she imagined what the molten stone would look like after she was done with it, she heard Drogon let out a low noise behind her. She glanced over her shoulder to find Jon marching her way with a very pregnant Visenya and Rhaenys. _He will not let us linger over the battle long._ That was fine by Daenerys. Burning the Faceless Men would be enough for her. Jon and their men could kill the rest.

“There it is, the House of Black and White,” she said, fixated on her foe.

“A boy came into the camp, one of Varys’ little birds. If he is to be believed, no one has left the temple in over twelve days. A girl was the last to leave, but the rest should still be there,” Jon said as he pulled on her hip to draw her close. His words left little comfort. They meant there was still at least one more person left in the world capable of hurting their family. _Will we ever live without the fear of a faceless man finding his way close to us one day and killing us all?_

“There could be more,” she said with pain.

“Aye. We do not have a choice. If we do not…,” he said before she interrupted.

“I know,” she replied, leaning her head against his side. “What did Kovarro have to say? Were there any troubles for our men to the east?”

“No. Lorath sent riders to their camp and have bent the knee. They brought gold with them to pay their tax and swear fealty to our House. They knew they were the last free city after Braavos and believed we would take them next,” Jon replied.

“Do not tell me you let them rule themselves,” she said. They never planned to conquer Lorath, but Daenerys knew the value of holding the last remaining free city surrounded by their lands. _If this is not a trick, the Lorathi shall be rewarded for coming to our side, however late it may be._

“I let them bend the knee and promised them the protection of House Targaryen. I did not wish to take the city, but I will not turn them away from joining our Kingdom,” he said, kissing her braid as he lightly squeezed her arm.

“The Braavosi will not take well to being ruled by the blood of Old Valyria,” Visenya said next to them. “They know their history. This city was founded by slaves fleeing our ancestors.”

“They do not know it that well. We are the ones freeing slaves, while they profit from the trade. We should remind them of that fact during our rule,” Daenerys responded.

“We should not stay here long,” Rhaenys proclaimed, looking at Braavos with the same fire Daenerys held in her own eyes.

“When our children are born, we will leave. Now is the time to return and Essos is secure. When we are done with the Iron Bank, no one will oppose us,” Jon said without any hint of doubt in his voice. They talked about the possibilities of any troubles in Essos that could hold them back. They all agreed Westeros needed them. _Against the Lannisters and the Dead._

As Daenerys looked upon Jon’s face, she hoped for two more children who would be her last. She wanted a boy and girl. _I would name them Daeron and Rhaella._ She prayed for their health and tried to imagine what their family would look like in the years to come. _If we defeat the dead. No, not if. We have to. I will not let my children be born into a world ruled by death. What we do today will be for them._

As the sky began to turn from pitch black to a dark blue hue, the sound of the Titan warning of approaching ships could be heard across the harbor. _Our ships._ She noticed Jon tighten his grip on Blackfyre, preparing himself for the coming battle. _He better not think of setting a foot on the ground before the city is ours._

Jon kissed Rhaenys and Visenya before they walked away to find their awaiting dragons. She found it was just herself and Jon, alone with Drogon guarding them. Before she could say what she wanted to, he pulled her close with his hand against the small of her back, tasting her lips as passionately as he did when they first fell in love in the North.

“Be careful. Do not risk your life. I cannot lose you,” he whispered with a hand resting on her stomach. She always loved how protective he was over her and their children. If she was not so adamant about the matter, she knew he would have her behind castle walls guarded by ten thousand men and dragons to keep away any who meant her harm.

“I won’t. I promise,” she said, standing back on her toes with her hands gripping his gambeson while her tongue sought entrance to his mouth. Daenerys did not let the moment pass without reminding herself of all the reasons she loved him. _Nothing in this world will tear us apart._ “Now go my love, before I keep you here for myself.”

She watched him walk away toward the Dothraki encampment until she lost him the sea of tents, horses, and warriors who felt useless watching a battle unfold across water they could not cross. Her eyes lingered on the camp until Drogon made his presence known with a low roar and Daenerys turned to find her dragon eager to unleash his flame upon their enemies. Crossing the wet morning grass, Daenerys found her black scaled-dragon ready to take her in the air.

While Drogon always tried to make it easy for her to climb onto his back, she took her time with greater care when she was heavy with child. Step by step, she went from his wing and shoulder, to the center of his back, clutching his spikes before ordering him to fly. With the cool morning air in her face, Daenerys flew to the only place she intended to attack in the city of Braavos.

The sky grew brighter by the moment as Drogon carried her over the calm waters of the bay. To her left, she could see Viserion and Rhaegal joining her to enact their revenge. A loud scream to her right cut through the air like thunder over the Blackwater. There, Daenerys found Rhaenys flying Myrax with Kios and Moonlight close behind.

As they closed in on the House of Black and White, Daenerys wondered if the assassins would attempt to fight. _There is nowhere for them to hide in battle. They cannot put on a new face and hope to hide from a dragon._ The flight felt over before it began as Drogon halted in the air above the black and white doors of the temple below. No one came out and no arrows came their way.

“Dracarys!” she ordered Drogon. With all his strength, Drogon unleashed a wave a dragonfire, blasting through the doors into the temple. He seemed to understand her wishes and kept up his attack, not stopping until the stones around he door began to glow and collapse. Weakened by his flames, the white stones of the House of White and Black glowed like a blacksmith’s furnace. The first part of the temple to collapse was the entrance. It could not withstand Drogon and Myrax’s flames. The other four dragons poured their flames into small openings near the roof of the temple.

After the front of the temple collapsed on itself, Drogon continued to burn the rubble below, making sure no one would survive their attack. Slowly, but surely, the rest of the temple fell, weakened by their smaller dragons. When Drogon finally stopped unleashing his fire upon the faceless men, all that Daenerys could see below was molten stone engulfed in flames.

Daenerys wanted to see the faceless men burn, but none revealed themselves, instead hiding within their temple. _They knew they were dead when their men failed in Pentos. Cowards. Every one of them._ She looked on with Rhaenys at the destruction they brought the assassins. _There is no room in our new world for those who would murder innocent babes._

There was nothing left for them to burn and destroy. Remembering what Jon had told her, she urged Drogon to fly higher to remove them from the range of a lucky archer, even if there was no one to be seen on the small island below. As they climbed higher in the sky, Daenerys saw the Titan of Braavos engulfed in flames. Jon and Visenya had led the attack as planned so they would not lose countless ships before even reaching the Braavosi fleet. Several Braavosi captains defected to their side, pleading for their lives and that of their countrymen.

Like the other cities in Essos, Braavos had men who did not want to die for the losing side. _Who wants to die fighting a dragon? There is no hope._ The captains were quick to offer their knowledge of the Sealord and his tactics in battle. She remembered hearing Jon say he was underwhelmed with what they heard. They found the current Sealord, Tormo Fregar, was much like his predecessor. _More politician than battle commander._

Daenerys turned Drogon to the west, following the mountainous islands separating the harbor from the Narrow Sea. She could see their massive fleet sailing toward the titan with nearly two dozen Greyjoy longships already sailing into the harbor. Even with a large part of their fleet still in Pentos, Daenerys guessed their fleet could be the largest the world has seen. _Only the Freehold could rival our strength._

As she and Rhaenys flew circles over their fleet, making sure there was not a hidden Braavosi fleet waiting to catch them unawares, Visenya joined them on Silverclaw. Daenerys wanted to relax with the wind blowing some of her braids loose, but could not help herself as she watched Jon and Vermithrex lead the attack on Braavos.

She kept her distance, but Daenerys could see Jon and Vermithrex protecting their Unsullied and Westerosi soldiers as they reached the city. It killed her to sit back and watch him fight this battle on his own. The only place that was sure to escape their wrath was the Arsenal, Braavos’ famed shipyard. _I do love acquiring new ships._

While flying over the scattered islands that made up the city of Braavos, Daenerys caught sight of the Greyjoys wreaking havoc upon the Braavosi fleet. She had her doubts, considering the Ironborn were unable to stop her brother from reaching the Iron Islands. Yara Greyjoy proved more formidable against the Braavosi than her father and uncles against the great Houses of Westeros.

Braavosi war galleys could be seen sinking around the harbor. Some were aflame while others were filled with Ironborn hacking and hammering their foes to an unglorified end. Daenerys learned from her time flying over battles that she did not need to be in the midst of the battle on the ground to understand the chaos and unforgiving nature of war. It was easy to understand why her brother and Ned Stark spoke so little of their own exploits in battle. There was heroism and glory to be found. Daenerys also realized it was ugly and horrific for those who were actually there.

Near the center of the city, she focused her gaze on what must be the Iron Bank. It was easily the greatest structure in the city. Its size and appearance were impressive, especially compared to much of what they saw in the Free Cities. The only reason the bank was still standing was the gold within its walls and the men who owned it hid in their homes. _They are mistaken if they think they can escape the Spider in this city._

She could not say how long it took as dawn turned to day. Her heart beat with pride as the Unsullied marched down the winding streets of Braavos toward the Iron Bank. Jon flew close overhead, looking for any Braavosi fool enough to stand in their way of taking the Iron Bank. The plaza in front of the bank was soon filled with their men, storming the grand structure, and placing Targaryen flags over the city.

When she saw Jon dismount Vermithrex and march into the Iron Bank with Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur at his side, Daenerys decided she was finished flying circles over their new city. Urging Drogon to begin their descent, she guided her dragon toward an empty space in the center of the plaza surrounded by their men. Rhaenys and Visenya landed on either side of her, slowly easing their way down the shoulders of their dragons. She was glad to see, despite their condition, the Unsullied knew to allow them to get on their own feet without assistance.

As Daenerys walked toward Rhaenys and Visenya, she was reminded of the chainmail underneath her conservative dress that was more suited to riding a dragon. Braavos did not have the same climate as the rest of Essos and she could no longer go without covering her arms in the cool air. She initially protested the light armor until Jon finally wore her thin. Visenya did not seem to mind. _She would have probably adorned herself with the armor of a knight when she was just a girl in Winterfell looking up to Jon and Ser Arthur._

“Did they put up a fight?” Visenya questioned when she reached her.

“No, they hid in their temple,” she answered, much to Visenya’s displeasure. Visenya wanted to hear of their suffering and was let down to know they did not get to see the faceless men burn.

Distracted by the approaching Unsullied from the corner of her eye, Daenerys turned to find Grey Worm without his helmet approaching next to his captains. “My Queens, the city is yours,” he said, letting them know the battle was done.

 

 

**Jon Targaryen**

Marching back to the camp, Jon fought the urge to look back at her as his boots trudged through the mud that was inescapable in the Dothraki camp. Every rider he passed raised their arakh, yelling his name and vowing to cut down the men in armor. He was relieved to know they were not going mad watching a battle soon unfold before their eyes while they sat there helpless to join the fray.

Deep within the camp in the shadow of a mountain that loomed over the low hills, Jon found Vermithrex waiting for him with Stormfyre and Sonar already looming overhead. He patted his hand on his dragon’s neck as he moved to climb the grey-scaled dragon’s shoulder. Taking his time to secure himself upon Vermithrex’s back, Jon looked to the dark sky when he heard Silverclaw fly past with the beat of her wings through the air.

“Sovegon,” he whispered to his dragon who took to the air with one push of his legs off the ground. As they flew away from the southern shore of the harbor and toward the Narrow Sea, Jon finally found Visenya flying along the mountainous islands covered in pine trees. Even with the sky turning blue, it was still difficult to spot the dragons in the sky.

Silverclaw flew slow enough for Vermithrex to fly alongside Visenya over the Narrow Sea toward their approaching fleet. Passing over their longships and war galleys, Jon turned back to find the sun beginning to rise in the eastern sky. The first Greyjoy ships were fast approaching the Titan of Braavos, who loomed over the entryway to the harbor. There was no avoiding it. Any who wished to attack Braavos had to enter through the narrow inlet and under the fortified statue. _We are fortunate the Titan is more statue than fortress._

Twisting back and forth nearly a thousand feet in the air, Jon finally waved to Visenya for them to begin their descent upon the Braavosi. With the cool air beating across his face, Jon focused on the Titan as Vermithrex was in a near free fall toward the sea below until he pulled on his dragon’s spikes, trusting he would follow his command. Spreading its wings, Vermithrex halted their descent just in front of the Titan of Braavos. Looking around his dragon’s neck, Jon saw the shocked faces of the men defending the city through small openings that would allow them to attack the ships below.

“Dracarys!” he yelled in unison with Visenya, causing their six dragons to send dragonfire coursing through the innards of the imposing Titan that had defended the city from any foe brave enough to take it. Where great fleets and admirals of old failed, they conquered with the strength of their dragons. _For good reason, the Braavosi hid themselves from the Valyrian Freehold._

Not wanting to destroy the Titan guarding the city, he flew his dragon away when he saw there was nothing more to be done. Whatever plans the Braavosi had for keeping them out were useless as the Greyjoys sailed into the harbor toward the waiting fleet that was outnumbered by the Targaryen fleet. After the Greyjoy ships came the galleys ferrying their Unsullied toward the docks of the Purple Harbor that lay in the shadow of the Sealord’s Palace. _When the day is over, so will be the days of a Sealord ruling Braavos._

Making sure to protect the galleys carrying his men, Jon flew circles over them, dissuading any Braavosi ship from attacking. He was not too concerned, seeing that the Braavosi were overwhelmed by the Ironborn breaking through their lines, wreaking havoc within their fleet. They were slower than he liked, but the Unsullied finally reached the Purple Harbor and jumped off the decks of their galleys onto the wooden planks of the docks.

Even though they looked to be in a rush, the Unsullied remained organized and alert, making their way through the tight and winding streets and alleys of the city. From his vantage point overhead, Jon watched his men take the Sealord’s Palace in short order, cutting down nearly a dozen men from what he could see. With the speed at which his army advanced, he soon realized this city would fall just as quickly as the rest.

The Braavosi maintained a strong navy, but they lacked any real army. _They never thought it possible for an army to set foot in their city._ As he kept a watchful eye on the Unsullied, he let a small part of himself admire the city below. It was unlike any he had ever seen. There were countless temples to be seen across the many islands, with several ports for sea captains to call home. As his soldiers progressed through the city, Vermithrex brought him over the Arsenal which had already been taken by a separate company of Unsullied who were under strict orders not to allow the shipyard to go up in flames.

Jon wanted to conquer the city, not destroy it. The only thing they intended on turning into dust was the House of Black and White. Braavos would need its shipyards and ports to survive after they left for Westeros. It would have to do without the Iron Bank, but Jon was not concerned for those who profited from its existence. Every single man who had an interest in the bank would not live to see another day.

When he flew back to the main Unsullied host, Jon thought he spotted Grey Worm leading their men and kept a close watch over his position. If he was needed to aid their push through the city, Grey Worm would let him know. The Unsullied were well disciplined and moved through the city of Braavos at a remarkable pace for men who did not ride on horseback.

After several bends in the street, Grey Worm was finally leading the Unsullied toward the rather weak defenses of the Iron Bank. Jon glimpsed to the south to find his Queens flying circles around the city. Knowing it was not the time to focus on them, he turned back to the plaza below. There was nothing left for him to do in the sky and he sent Vermithrex down to the ground to make as graceful a landing as a beast of his size could.

He did not know how, but the moment his boots hit the ground, Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur were there to protect him. _If it were the Kingsguard who ruled and not the King, I would still be on my ship, watching the battle from afar._ There was no fighting nearby, so he kept Blackfyre sheathed on his belt.

“Your Grace,” Ser Barristan said, slightly bowing his head under his golden Kingsguard helm.

“Ser Barristan. Ser Arthur. Let us see what the Iron Bank holds within its vaults,” he replied, looking up at the Iron Bank. It was the largest building in Braavos and was an impressive structure considering it was not built for a king or religious fanatics. It was built by those who lent money and always made sure to profit from their ventures, even the failed ones.

As they climbed the steps to the entrance of the bank, he found Grey Worm waiting for them with ten men there to escort them. Once they were inside, Jon found the Iron Bank to his liking. It was large and impressive, but did not have the extravagance of the manses of Qarth nor the luxuries of the palaces of Volantis. _The Iron Bank cares about numbers and the stories they tell, nothing more, Davos said. He isn’t wrong._

“This way my King,” Grey Worm declared, waving them over to follow him down the marbled hall to another corridor. After several twists and turns, they finally came upon an iron-barred doorway nearly twenty feet wide that was being opened by three of his soldiers. Following his Unsullied through the entryway, Jon discovered the Iron Bank had just as much gold as the world thought it did.

The vault was filled with gold bars and coin. And it was not just gold the Iron Bank protected. There were chests full of silver coins, shelves covered with precious gems, and other valuable items that were deemed as worthy payments or collected against a borrower’s will. The bank did not match his own family’s wealth but it would have been close before they began to conquer Essos.

“Why did they leave it?” Grey Worm asked, examining a gold bar in his hands.

“They never thought they would be conquered and there is nowhere to hide all of this,” Jon replied, looking at what must have been three dozen Valyrian steel swords hanging along the wall. _How long did it take them to collect such precious heirlooms? No man would willingly part with a Valyrian steel sword._ “When Lord Tyrion arrives, make sure he does a full accounting.”

“You trust the Lannister with all this gold?” Ser Arthur jested.

“Aye,” he answered through a small laugh. He knew Tyrion was best suited to this task. He had served briefly as the Master of Coin in King’s Landing for Joffrey and was familiar with the Iron Bank’s dealings with House Lannister. _He shall go over their papers as well. There may lie secrets within that tell us stories of the lords, archons, triarchs, magisters, and other powerful men from Westeros to Essos._

Having spent enough time wandering the halls and offices of the Iron Bank after securing its gold, Jon stepped out into the plaza. He could see his Queens had already landed with their dragons. Grey Worm was speaking with them while the Unsullied began to form a protective perimeter around them. As they walked down the steps to speak with his Queens, Jon saw several prisoners marched down a nearby street at spear point by the Unsullied.

Before they set sail, Varys informed them he knew all the families who held an interest in the Iron Bank and his little birds would not lose them once the battle began. These prisoners were likely some of the first men the Unsullied were able to capture thanks to Varys’ spies. Several of the Braavosi sea captains that came to their side also vowed to help find every man involved with the Iron Bank.

As he made his way through the Unsullied, the soldiers clad in their simple, light armor opened their ranks for him to approach his Queens who were standing close to their largest dragons. From what he could tell, they were unharmed and perfectly safe. Seeing was not enough and he closed the distance to dissuade any fears he held.

“Are you hurt? Did anything happen?” he asked as he caressed both Daenerys and Rhaenys’ faces. Their smooth skin still felt as hot as flames in a hearth. By the looks on their faces, he knew they thought him foolish for even asking. No matter how many battles they won nor how powerful their dragons became, he still feared for their safety. _Aegon the Conqueror lost Rhaenys in Dorne when she was flying on her dragon. I could never live with myself if the same happened to Daenerys, Visenya, or Rhaenys._

“We are fine. You worry too much. It is us who should worry. Our fool for a King favors fighting with his sword too often,” Daenerys replied in a hushed tone so none could hear. _Not that the Unsullied would speak of anything they witnessed or heard from us._

“The House of Black and White?” he asked, hoping the matter was done.

“Is no more. A pile of rubble and ash. The only faceless man remaining is the one who got away,” she answered, looking up at him with her lovely eyes.

“There were no troubles?” he questioned.

“None. They hid in their temple and burned in the fire. What of the Iron Bank?” Rhaenys asked with venom toward the faceless men who attempted to end their family.

“It was nearly empty, but its vaults were full. More gold and wealth than anywhere I have seen besides Dragonstone. I made sure to order the papers from the bankers’ offices be sent to Lord Tyrion. Hopefully his experience is as valuable as he proclaims,” Jon told his wives.

“None of the bank’s representatives were inside?” Visenya asked. He shook his head to confirm none were found. They were smart enough to know why House Targaryen had come to Braavos. “What of the Sealord?” she continued, resting her hand on Dark Sister.

“Dead, killed by his own men. Grey Worm said several of his men found him dead in his palace after seeing several servants fleeing with valuables,” Jon replied. He would have preferred to sever the man’s head from his shoulders with Blackfyre, but now he no longer cared. There were still plenty of men from the Iron Bank he intended on killing.

“You were closer to the fighting than any of us. Did we lose many men?” Daenerys asked, concerned for the well-being of their men. _Well, most of them. Perhaps not the Ironborn._

“From what I could see, no. I have not seen any Unsullied fall and Grey Worm is still waiting to hear from his captains,” he said, looking back for a moment to see a few more men brought over to the collection of prisoners nearby. “Where are Darkskye and Vyraxes?” He had not seen the two dragons since their men set foot in the city.

“I sent them back to protect our children aboard their ship. I did not want them without the dragons for too long,” Visenya said, pushing aside any concern he held for their absence from the sky overhead.

“Thank you,” he said, looking each of them in their amethyst eyes, reminding himself of what they meant to him.

“For what?” Visenya asked with a furrowed brow.

“Following my wishes. Staying out of the battle and keeping yourselves safe from any harm,” he said, wishing to pull them into his embrace. Only he couldn’t in this setting with the eyes of outsiders around, able to see them. He was not one who clung to traditions, but he did not wish to show his affection and utter devotion to his Queens to the outside world.

“You are lucky we are heavy with child. When we return to Westeros, you will not be so fortunate,”  Rhaenys answered in a playful yet seductive voice that always stirred something inside himself.

He was going to respond until he saw Davos, Tyrion, and Varys approaching. Davos was supposed to oversee the taking of the shipyards, but Jon was surprised to find the others had arrived so soon. They had little use when it came to battle. _Even if Tyrion likes to go on about his defense of King’s Landing against Stannis Baratheon._

“Did everything go as planned?” he asked his Hand when their advisors finally stood before them.

“Aye. Ser Jorah has taken the Arsenal and is moving through the different ports to secure the docks for our ships. The Greyjoys destroyed most of the Braavosi fleet before Lord Aurane was able to reach them,” Davos informed him. _He will not be pleased with that outcome._

“Before the day is done, send some of our ships to ferry Dothraki to the city. We will need some of them to keep the peace,” he ordered his Hand. _Dothraki keeping the peace? I never thought those words would ever come from my mouth._ “Lord Tyrion, there are matters for you to attend to in the Iron Bank. I trust you will make sure every coin is accounted for and we get an understanding of who all holds debts with the bank.”

“I am beginning to regret I ever mentioned serving as Master of Coin. I cannot promise a few coins won’t find their way into the famed brothels of Braavos,” Tyrion replied, as his frustration turned to jest.

“As one could understand,” Jon replied with a slight grin, knowing Tyrion was a frequent visitor to the brothels of King’s Landing and Lannisport. _Actually, any brothel that was nearby._

“Your Grace, my little birds have found most of the representatives of the Iron Bank as well as those who held an interest in it. The rest cannot hide forever. Braavos is small and not easy to escape. Tycho Nestoris is among the prisoners the Unsullied have collected,” Varys informed him. Tycho Nestoris was the main voice within the bank that supported the Lannisters and backed the slavers’ actions against House Targaryen. _He will die first._

Seeing Varys had more to say, Daenerys asked, “What is it?”

“The Golden Company my Queen. They sailed to Westeros and now serve Cersei. The Iron Bank paid them and Cersei has promised them lands and titles,” Varys informed them.

It was now becoming clear what they faced in Westeros before turning their attention north. They would have to face the armies of the Westerlands, Euron Greyjoy, the Golden Company, and if Arianne Martell failed, half of Dorne. _That is another matter entirely._

“How many set sail for Westeros?” he asked Lord Varys.

“All of them, my King. Some twenty thousand men, with horses and war elephants,” Varys replied. It did not make a difference, but he still turned away to brood on the news, looking to his Queens for any answers. “Grey Worm, take me to the prisoners.”

Turning to the commander of the Unsullied, Jon followed him to the group of some fifty men sitting on the ground surrounded by Unsullied with spears pointed at their heads. Each of the men had nervous looks on their faces. All except one. Most were easy to identify as Braavosi. They held the features of all the men he met from Braavos. The man who did not seem to fear what was to come looked like a man from Westeros. _He must be Tycho Nestoris._

“You must be Tycho Nestoris,” he said, looking at the man who hired the faceless men in the eyes.

“And I presume you are Jon Targaryen,” the man answered in a Westerosi accent. _Is Tycho even his true name? It matters not. He will not live long enough for me to care about his story and true identity._

“You do not look afraid. Look around you. All of your friends know this is the end,” he said, hoping to strike fear in the man before he met his end.

“I am merely a representative of the Iron Bank, looking out for interests of those who own it. It appears the gold in its vaults now belong to you. Just because you have conquered Essos does not mean the world does not need the Iron Bank. You need me. The numbers on our papers tell a story and I read those stories better than any man sitting here,” Tycho Nestoris replied in a calm voice.

“Aye, but you do not understand. All the gold in your bank and all the wealth in the world means nothing to me. I have something more valuable than it all,” Jon said, earning a puzzled look on the face of the banker. “Dragons. All your gold and you find yourself sitting here, at the mercy of House Targaryen. You gambled and you lost.”

“So, it seems,” Tycho replied, seemingly resigning himself to the fact that he was going to die and there was nothing he could say to change that. “Will it be fire or sword?”

“Fire,” he replied. These men would have been put to the sword, but they attempted to murder his children, his mothers, and his Queens. _I stand by the old way, but not in this case._

Right as he revealed the fate that awaited the men of the Iron Bank, he heard Stormfyre and Sonar roar above. His dragons landed behind him, roaring in the faces of the men who wanted them dead. The prisoners were awestruck and terrified by the unpleasant death they faced. Each of the Unsullied began to back away, knowing what was to happen next.

“I, Jon of the House Targaryen, First of His Name, Khal of the Great Grass Sea, King of Essos, and rightful King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, sentence you to die,” he declared, looking down at every face, wishing they had not forced him to take such measures. _Let this remind those who wish my family harm what fate awaits them._ “Dracarys,” he finally said in a low tone, but loud enough for his two dragons to hear.

Two waves of Dragonfire went crashing down on either side of him, bathing the men in flames. Like all the others who perished before their dragons, their screams did not last more than a few seconds. The dragons were too powerful to prolong the pain of the men they killed. _If I were a cruel King, they would have been chained and tortured for months until death._

“You did the right thing,” Daenerys said, appearing at his side, staring at the dying flames.

“I know. When we return to Westeros, we need to avoid burning our enemies we have captured,” he said, looking at her face that always made things better.

“We will. These men deserved it. They tried to kill our children,” Daenerys replied, placing her soft hand on his arm for comfort.

 

In the five days since taking Braavos, the city returned to normal with fishermen sailing out of the harbor, traders entering from Pentos, crabbers selling their food at market, worshippers visiting the many temples of various faiths, and shipbuilders constructing new galleys. Every day Jon rode through the streets, he found the markets filled, the canals swarmed with small boats, and no one looking over their shoulder in fear.

Braavos may have held contempt for the blood of Old Valyria in its past, but those days were long ago. The Braavosi did not seem to mind the destruction of the House of Black and White nor their dismantling of the Iron Bank. As long as peace was established and held, the small folk in every corner of the world paid no mind to the struggles of the families and men with power.

If the Braavosi had a true army, Jon wondered how differently they would be received. A real army would have meant many Braavosi falling in battle and earning the hatred of the city for the rulers who killed their sons and brothers. There were still powerful families left in the city who could undermine their rule, so Jon ordered Varys to keep a watchful eye on them, looking for the faintest hint of plotting.

“Where have you been?” he asked at the sound of Daenerys’ familiar footsteps cutting across the marble floor of his office within their new palace. The Sealord may have not been a king, but one could be mistaken for thinking otherwise while visiting the palace. It reminded Jon of their manse in Qarth, except far larger.

“Seeing to our children. I saw Melisandre leaving. What did she want?” Daenerys replied, leaning against his side, staring out at the lagoon with him.

“Reminding me the Lord of Light and his followers are with us. That we are the prince and princesses promised. I never know what she is going on about. Sometimes, I catch myself trusting her. Then I remember what Davos has told me of her,” Jon mused, clutching to Daenerys’ warmth. He thought she looked like the most beautiful thing in the world with her loose, yet revealing red dress with her silver hair falling down her back like a waterfall.

“Well, she is right about one thing. You are the prince who was promised to me and I, the princess who was promised to you,” she said just she stood on her toes to seal her lips with his. He wanted to take her right here while they were alone and not needed elsewhere, but he knew he could not, considering her condition.

Resting his brow against hers, he whispered, “When do you think they will come?”

“How should I know? When they do, they do,” she laughed.

“Are Visenya and Rhaenys still in the nursery?” he asked, wondering when they would give birth as well.

“Yes. The little ones are wearing them thin, but they can manage,” she replied as he sat down in his chair at his desk with Daenerys in his lap with her hands locked behind his neck.

“And you?” he questioned, knowing she never rested. If she was not performing her duties as a Queen, he could find her doting over their smaller children and trying to keep the older ones to behave.

“I am more experienced than they are,” she replied, trying to keep a straight face before they both began to laugh. After gathering herself, she continued, “Arya keeps asking me when you are going to teach her how to fight with a sword.”

“She is not old enough,” he replied. _I am sure she has already asked Visenya._

“I think she just wants to see you more. You have been so busy since we arrived. She misses her father. Our little princess can never behave herself while you are away,” Daenerys said.

“I’ll have my mother bring Arya and Rhaegar here, and I will keep them occupied while I deal with the troubles of Braavos. They will soon find themselves bored with me and return to our direwolves,” he replied. When she rolled her eyes, he continued, “I will make more time for them, I promise. I want to.”

“That is why I love you,” she replied, crashing her lips against his, moving her tongue in to taste him. He could feel her nails digging into his scalp while trying to free his hair.

Not letting her get carried away, he gently eased her hands away and pulled himself from her kiss. “We need to stop before I go mad,” he said.

“Alright then, how are things progressing?” she asked, standing from the chair to return to the window looking out onto the lagoon.

“The Dothraki are ready to leave. They hate it here and I cannot blame them. There is nowhere for their horses to ride. Everything else is ready or will be by the time we leave. When the babes are born and it is safe for us to travel with them, we leave for Dragonstone,” he said.

“There is nothing keeping us here in Braavos?” she questioned, trying to contain her joy.

“If there is, I cannot see it. Davos and Varys have found the right men to rule the city in our name,” he told her. Like all the cities they conquered, there were men eager to prove themselves loyal and gain more power. The struggle was finding the right men who understood if they overreached, they would never go unpunished by House Targaryen.

“I worry everything we have built here will fall apart after we have crossed the Narrow Sea and returned home,” Daenerys admitted. Jon noticed her eyes following Viserion and Sonar flying near the Titan.

“Don’t. We have defeated those who would oppose us or had the strength to. We haven’t seen Qohor or Norvos in years, and they are still in our Kingdom,” he said trying to assuage her concern for the future. “And none of it matters if we do not deal with the threat beyond the Wall.”

“Part of me wishes we could pretend you did not see what you saw at Hardhomme. That the Army of the Dead is not real. That the white walkers and Night King are just stories told to northern children to make them behave,” she mused with more worry than he typically heard in her voice.

“But that is not you. You are my Queen, Daenerys Targaryen. A queen who loves her people and will do anything to protect the realm. To protect our family,” he whispered as he came behind her, leaving a kiss on her neck as he rested his hands on her stomach.

 

 

**Arianne Martell**

It had been four hours since they had broke camp and begun their final march upon Sunspear. They would not be surprising the Sand Snakes with their arrival. They knew their lands and that meant taking one’s time to travel with an army across Dorne. Water was needed to keep the army alive and that required Edric leading their host on the slow road to Dorne.

Arianne kept to her wheelhouse at Edric’s insistence with the knowledge she carried their child which would be born within the moon. On the road from Starfall to Sandstone to Hellholt to Vaith to Godsgrace, and along the Greenblood, she had plenty of time to contemplate how her House found itself in this position. _I am all that is left of House Martell, but that will soon change._

It seemed every castle, keep, town, and holdfast they crossed brought them more men willing to fight for her claim on Sunspear and Dorne. When she and Edric arrived at Starfall after sailing from Pentos, she found Lord Alaric Dayne had already gathered ten thousand men, ready to fight for her and House Targaryen in the wars to come. Houses Wyl and Yronwood were yet to swear fealty to her, but she knew they would deal with them in time. _When they hear we have retaken Sunspear, they will come begging forgiveness for their late arrival._

The sounds of horses galloping past her wheelhouse with men shouting tore her attention from her thoughts on the Houses of Dorne. Reaching for the silk blocking out the sun, Arianne pulled the curtain back to find their army cresting the hills south of Sunspear. The grass hills blowing in the wind, mixed with the light sands of the Dornish beaches were unmistakable. She grew up playing in these hills and the beaches below. _I still have fond memories of playing in the sea with Tyene and Nym. And now they have been turned against me and Rhaenys. Curse Ellaria!_

“Princess Arianne…,” one of her guards rode up to the wheelhouse, attempting to inform her of their impending arrival at her home.

“Yes, I know Ser Albin. I know my own lands,” she replied, dismissing her loyal, but sometimes overbearing knight from House Manwoody. She initially took a disliking to the man, but came to understand he was just a loyal friend to her husband and proud supporter of House Targaryen. _He should be considering it was King Rhaegar who knighted him._

As she gazed upon the breaking waves on the Summer Sea, she was reminded of the raven sent to Starfall two days after their return from Essos. Willas Tyrell offered to send thousands of men from Oldtown and the Redwyne fleet to help her take back Sunspear. She wanted to accept the aid from Allyria, but sent a raven to Highgarden letting her dear friend know she needed to lay her claim upon Dorne with a Dornish army. _If I arrive with an army of Reach men, some may throw their banners behind Ellaria._

Arianne’s heart beat a little faster at the sight of the Spear Tower and the Tower of the Sun standing tall above the rest of her home. Everything was just as she left it. The Shadow City still hid in the shadows of the walls of Sunspear. As the road presented a view of the small city, she did not find any children playing or men walking the narrow streets. Every person there knew what was coming and understood what her arrival with an army meant. _Good, they think there will be a battle._

When her wheelhouse finally came to a halt, she did not wait for her handmaidens to assist her stepping out into the punishing Dornish sun. The cool breeze rolling in from the sea was a welcome reprieve from an otherwise uncomfortable day. Searching for Edric, all Arianne saw were men rushing to form up around the walls of Sunspear as if a battle was beginning to unfold.

As she crossed the grounds toward the front of their lines, Arianne felt the hot sand brushing against her feet, unprotected by her sandals. Her army was not as large as Rhaenys’ but she did not need over one hundred thousand men to take Sunspear. She needed good Dornishmen loyal to her and a foolish foe who underestimated those she hated. _Lucky for me, my foe is Ellaria Sand._

Arianne never disliked her uncle’s paramour, but she did find Ellaria Sand to be reckless and overreaching at times. She was loyal only to Oberyn and not House Martell. If there were any doubt about that, it was killed the day her brothers were murdered by the Sand Snakes.

Finally finding her House sigil and the lilac banners of House Dayne, Arianne marched her way through the ranks of soldiers to find her husband standing next to his father and several other lords. They were pointing at the walls of Sunspear, preparing for a bloody siege that would see many fall. _If everything goes to plan, it will not come to that._

She was going to call for her lord husband, but did not get the chance when he noticed her walking his way. Even with their light armor, she wondered how Edric and the rest of the men survived in this heat. Summer was gone, but Arianne still preferred the light Dornish dresses that allowed her to breath and leave little to the imagination of the men who admired her. _Now I only care for one man’s admiration._

“I was going to send for you,” he said with both hands resting on her bare arms. He was concentrated on the task at hand, but Arianne could tell he was entranced by her beauty and the sunset-orange dress she wore.

“I know,” she replied, keeping a protective hand over the babe inside her. “Have they sent a man to treat with us yet?”

“No, but they will. They do not have a choice,” he said with the confidence she loved. It was a pleasant surprise to find him when she did. She had resigned herself to the idea of marrying some weak boy from one of the Dornish Houses she needed to oppose her father. Instead, she came across Edric upon his return from the Riverlands, fighting with Lord Beric Dondarrion. He was no longer the boy she remembered, but a man who had seen war and could find himself worthy of earning the title of Sword of the Morning after his legendary uncle.

As if the gates of Sunspear wished to prove her husband correct, they opened right after he finished his words. Arianne peered through the opening gates as they soon revealed Ellaria, Tyene, Obara, and Nym riding forth on four mares with some twenty men at their side. The men with crossbows aimed at herself and her army caught her attention for the briefest of moments. Shifting her gaze back to Ellaria, Arianne could see the hatred her uncle’s paramour now held for her.

Edric helped her climb the saddle of her white mare to ride out with her bannermen to meet the Sand Snakes halfway between the walls of Sunspear and the army she had brought to reclaim her home. Almost all of Dorne was with her and she was in no mood to listen to Ellaria’s venomous words.

Coming to a halt some twenty feet from her enemy, Arianne looked into each of their eyes, hoping to find the cousins she thought she knew. When they were younger, they talked about what she would do when she ruled after her father. _They wanted me to rule Dorne. Now they stand against me and House Martell._

“I see you and that boy have returned from Essos. I assume you bent the knee to the King in the east and his queens,” Ellaria said, attempting to insult her husband. _We will see who laughs at the end of this conversation._

“They are the rightful rulers of Westeros. How can you turn your backs on Rhaenys? She loved you like sisters. I loved you like sisters. Instead, you murder my father and butcher my brothers. And now you stand here, denying me my birthright and claiming Dorne for yourselves,” she scolded her traitorous cousins who did not even flinch at her words.

“You gave up your birthright the day you sailed from Westeros to bend the knee to the dragons. Oberyn is dead because of the Lannisters. And what does Rhaenys do? She allows them to continue to breath while ruling her kingdom in Essos. Did she forget Oberyn was her uncle? Did Elia forget her brother? Your father was a weak man, bending the knee to the Lannisters. Your brothers were weak men and you are just as weak as they were. Dorne will not be ruled by the weak again. Dorne will remember what it meant to kill the dragons and lions,” Ellaria proclaimed.

“You speak of Oberyn, but you did not know him. He would never betray Rhaenys. He would seek vengeance against the family who murdered Aegon. He would have fought for King Jon and House Targaryen,” Arianne replied in anger.

“Turn around Arianne. Turn around and ride back to Starfall. Stay there with your new lover and pray we do not find you plotting against us with your friends from Dragonstone,” Obara threatened her. She couldn’t help but smirk. Obara was deadly with a spear and a fearsome fighter, but if it came to a real battle, Arianne knew Obara would not fare as well as she thought.

“Cousins, I plead with you. Throw down your weapons and any poisons you may carry and I will let you live. I will even let you live Ellaria. You will remain a prisoner in the dungeons, but you will get to live. Look around you, all of Dorne is with me,” she promised. _I know they will say no. If there was even the slightest chance of them accepting those terms, I would not have offered._

“That is where you are wrong Arianne. All of Dorne is not with you. The people loved Oberyn and they will fight for us. They know we will not forget those who had him killed. Dorne will never bend the knee again,” Ellaria answered, turning her horse around to ride for the gates of Sunspear.

Part of her wished for Tyene and Nym to turn their horses back to seek forgiveness. Arianne knew that was not going to happen. She watched the four of them ride toward the gates with their loyal guards and knew it was time. Arianne lifted her right arm in the air and pointed down at the riders making for the open gate.

The Sand Snakes were experts at deception and betrayal, but did not see it coming for themselves. Seeing her signal, the crossbowmen atop the parapets over the gate sent countless bolts down, sending every rider from their horse.

Ellaria thought she had won the loyalty of House Toland, but she was sorely mistaken. Lord Aeric Toland was a loyal friend to Oberyn and that clouded her judgement. Arianne knew Ellaria thought everyone dedicated to Oberyn felt as she did. Lord Toland sent a raven to Starfall as soon as they heard of her brothers’ deaths. Ever since, they served the Sand Snakes faithfully until now. Geron Toland was one of the knights guarding the gate of Sunspear, waiting for her command to end Ellaria’s short reign.

Waiting to see if any of them clung to life, Arianne only moved her mare forward after seeing none of the bodies on the ground moving. Slowly, she approached the women she had once considered sisters who laid lifeless in the sand. Each were littered with bolts shot from men they thought would fight for them.

“Are you alright?” Edric asked out of concern.

“They thought they understood Dorne. They were wrong,” she said, staring down at their bodies, pooling with blood. _Dorne did not love my father in the end. It certainly did not love my brothers. But Dorne loves me and Rhaenys. They loved Aegon. They were fool enough to think they could keep Sunspear from me and raise banners against Rhaenys._

“My Lords, find a maester. Send the ravens, all of them. Dorne will march north when the year is over,” she ordered, turning to Edric. She made sure to let the others give them their privacy with the face she gave them.

“We will need to send word to Highgarden before we leave,” Edric warned, knowing some of the Houses along the road to King’s Landing may think they wish to invade their land.

“Have one sent before the day is over. The Tyrells may join us if Jon commands it,” she replied, wondering what the final plans would be for the war against the Lannisters.

“Shall we?” he asked, gesturing toward Sunspear. Their men were already riding through the gate, taking refuge within the castle walls. Nodding her head, Arianne rode forth toward her home with her husband by her side.

 

 

**Jaime Lannister**

Riding down the Kingsroad, Jaime began to see familiar hills and woods that told him they were close to King’s Landing. The journey to King’s Landing from The Twins was long and unpleasant. His army was slowing him down from returning to Cersei. _Walder Frey and his idiot sons already delayed me long enough._

He should have been amazed at the incompetence of the siege the Freys brought against Riverrun, but he knew the Freys. They came upon a disorganized mess. If it was not a Lannister army arriving at Riverrun, the Freys would have been slaughtered. _At least we had Edmure Tully to get the castle back._

While he did get Riverrun back in the hands of House Frey, Jaime still cursed himself for allowing the Blackfish and most of his loyal men to slip away in the night. The old man realized the men defending the seat of House Tully were not eager to defend the castle much longer once Edmure ordered the gates open.

When the Westerlands army stormed the castle in search of the Blackfish, he was nowhere to be found. Jaime did not say anything, but he saw the old man rowing downriver with Brienne of Tarth and Podric Payne. If it had been any other with him, he would have alerted his men and killed them before allowing their escape. _I could not have her killed. Not after what we had been through. If it wasn’t for her, I would have lost my hand._

“Why didn’t you leave more men in the Riverlands?” Bronn asked, riding up alongside his horse. “The Blackfish will return with an army.”

“Because we have greater worries than the Riverlands,” he replied thinking of the Targaryens. They were close now and it would not be long before they returned to Westeros. Jaime had been dreading this day for years. He did not pay them mind while a prisoner of Robb Stark and later on the run with Brienne. Ever since he returned to King’s Landing, it was all he could think about. _I cannot fight Arthur or Barristan. I cannot fight her_

“That’s not why. You were ready to burn Riverrun to the ground and kill every man inside, until she showed up,” Bronn replied, referring to Brienne. _He thinks I love her. I love Cersei. Brienne is something else._

“I don’t pay you to talk about this,” he replied, not wanting to discuss Brienne of Tarth.

“No, you pay me to kill people. And I am still owed a castle,” Bronn replied. _I did promise him. He should be lucky to keep one once the Targaryens return. If what they say is true about the dragons, we will not live long._

“A Lannister always pays his…,” he started to remind Bronn of Lannisters paying their debts until he was halted in his tracks. Coming to a halt in the middle of the Kingsroad atop his horse, Jaime watched as a plume of smoke rose above the trees. _Have they already returned? Is there anything left of King’s Landing._

Jaime had to see what had happened and had his horse racing down the Kingsroad. Bronn and the Lannister soldiers behind were following close behind as they thundered down the road. After a few minutes, they finally reached a point in the road where the trees disappeared and they were given a clear view of the city. The Great Sept of Baelor was gone. All that remained was a pile of rubble and smoke. _What has she done?_

He turned to Bronn who gave him a grim look. They both understood what had happened and what it meant. He did not care for the opinions of the people of King’s Landing. _I had already saved their damned lives._ This act would not be forgotten and it would only bring them more trouble once the Targaryens return.

Leaving the slow army behind, Jaime rode off down the Kingsroad to enter the city through the Dragon Gate. The gold cloaks at the gate stayed out of their way, seeing their Lannister armor and banners. The city was quiet for once. It did not remind him of the King’s Landing he knew. It was as if the life had been sucked out of the city.

Each person they passed stayed clear, fearful of what might happen to them if they impeded their travel to the Red Keep. Shops and markets that were normally busy with people were empty. It reminded him of only one other time. _Aerys’ final days as King. But Cersei is not Aerys. Is she?_

When they rode through the gates of the Red Keep, Jaime found an empty court yard with only a few stable boys waiting to gather their horses. It was not just the city that was silent as a crypt. Their men manned the walls, but that was all he saw. Marching toward the nearest entrance to the keep, Jaime found two men from the Westerlands standing guard. “Where is everyone?” he asked.

“Lord Jaime! They are in the throne room. Lord Jaime…,” one of the soldiers said as Jaime kept walking further down the hall to find his way to Cersei. _She and Tommen are no doubt having to hold court to keep what little allies we have left._

When he cut through the corridors and arrived at the edge of the throne room, he found Cersei walking toward the empty Iron Throne. Waiting for her was Qyburn standing before the throne. As she climbed the steps towards the ugly chair, he finally realized what was happening. _Our son is dead. How?_

His heart sunk as he listened to Qyburn proclaim his sister and his love the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. _What happened that brought us here? We had three children. Now we have none. We are all that remain. It is only us._

After sitting the throne with a crown on her head in her slender, black dress, Cersei looked him in the eyes. He could see the hurt inside her. Tommen was all she had left after losing Myrcella. _Is there any joy left inside her now?_

 

Jaime found himself waiting in her chambers for nearly an hour. He was not about to stand there and watch as Cersei spoke with the members of court who said whatever they thought she wanted to hear. _They will abandon us without a second’s thought if they think we will lose._

What disturbed him more than anything was the presence of Euron Greyjoy. He did not trust the Ironborn nor did he hold their fighting abilities in high regard. Jaime could still recall every moment of every battle during the Greyjoy Rebellion. _They are good at reaving and raping, nothing else. Every man I cut down, I cut down with ease. And Euron was the man who started it all when he burned the Lannister fleet at Lannisport._

His thoughts on the Battle of Pyke were broken by the sound of a creaking door. Cersei’s gentle footsteps could be heard approaching and he stood from his chair, ready to seek answers from her. He wanted to know how their son died and what led to the destruction of the Great Sept of Baelor.

“How?” he asked when she stepped into the bedchambers with her hands clasped. Her face was still as stone and unreadable.

“I told you. It is us against everyone else. I was not going to let the Sparrows take what was ours. I was not going to let the Tyrells keep playing their games. Willas Tyrell married Ashara Dayne’s bastard. They were going to betray us at any moment. Our uncle Kevan did everything he could to undermine us and allow the High Sparrow to control our son, so I acted,” Cersei responded.

“I was not asking about the damn sept. I was asking about our son,” he replied with anger.

“He was weak. He betrayed me. He betrayed us,” she said, with the words nearly failing on her lips.

“He was weak? I don’t understand. How can you say that? What are you saying?” he asked, not knowing what she meant.

“Our boy killed himself. Tommen jumped from his chambers after…,” she tried to finish before stopping herself.

“After you had the Westerling girl killed. You knew he favored her,” he replied. After leaving the coronation, Jaime heard one of the stewards speak of Jeyne Westerling being present in the sept when the wildfire ignited. It all made sense now and he could not keep himself from blaming her. _She would not have done it if she knew this would happen. She should have known._

He waited to hear her defense, but received none. Instead, Cersei turned away and walked to the window overlooking Blackwater Bay. It did not give him any satisfaction seeing her accept what her actions caused. _Cersei is many things, but she loved our children more than anything in this world. She loved them too much. Joffrey was never disciplined and Tommen was never made a man._

A long period of silence continued until Cersei finally spoke up, “Your little whore and her King have taken Braavos. They now have all the Iron Bank’s gold and all the Sealord’s ships. There is only one place left for them to go. And our little brother is with them. The one who murdered our father. The one you helped escape. We are surrounded by enemies. The Targaryens to the east with their Dothraki screamers and slave soldiers. The Martell whore has retaken Sunspear and is building army. The Tyrells now stand with the Targaryens. Stannis has gathered the stormlords. To the north, Sansa Stark and Harrold Arryn will fight with her brother. You are the leader of our armies. What should we do?”

“Our enemies are united against us. The Targaryens have allies. Where are our allies?” he replied, hoping to get his point across. _We cannot win if our enemies stay united._

“We have the Freys and the Iron Islands,” she replied.

“Those are not allies. Walder Frey will not send his men to fight dragons and the Ironborn are petty people. I know them. They are weak and will betray us the first chance they get,” he told her.

“That is why I have bought new allies. The Golden Company,” she replied, turning to face him.

“And how many men did they bring?” he asked.

“Twenty thousand and war elephants. The Iron Bank paid for their services and I promised them lands and titles,” she informed him. “How do we win?”

“We attack the Targaryens where they are not. We go after their allies. With Mace Tyrell and Loras Tyrell dead, Willas will march for King’s Landing. Robb Stark and Sansa Stark will join him. I will lead our armies and attack them before they reach the city,” he replied. _We will have to be careful. We cannot attack them too far from the city and leave it undefended._ “And when the Tyrells do come for us, so will the Redwyne fleet. Send Euron Greyjoy to attack them. If he sails against the Targaryens or Velaryons, he will lose.”

“What about Stannis and Arianne Martell?” Cersei asked.

“Stannis will not make his move until Jon Targaryen does. The Stormlords are still weakened and the Dornish are too few in number. Hopefully, they do not join forces with the Tyrells. But its all for naught when the dragons arrive,” he mused, without any idea of how to deal with them.

“Qyburn has been working on a solution for their dragons,” she replied with a smirk on her lips. “What? Do you worry for poor Rhaenys? She is not your blood. If you had not let her go, we would not be in this situation.” _No, but she was the closest thing to a daughter I ever had. Curse Cersei and what she has done. I never wanted to fight House Targaryen. I would have given my life for them. If it comes to it, I will protect Rhaenys again._

“If you had told me of what you planned, I would have stopped you. We are all that is left. We are the last of our family. Was it worth it? If we are not careful, our little brother, whom you hate so much will be the last Lannister living in this world,” he replied.

Tired of arguing, Jaime stood from his chair and left their chambers to think alone. He was tired of fighting. Things were getting worse, not better. If they kept making the same mistakes, he was going to find himself on the field of battle trying not to be burnt alive by a dragon.

 

 

**Robb Stark**

Winterfell was beginning to feel overwhelmed with the number of smallfolk and free folk travelling south to live in Winter Town, hoping to find food and a warm hearth. Adding to their numbers, Robb had called on Houses Karstark, Umber, Hornwood, Mormont, Glover, the mountain clans, and other smaller houses to bring their fighting men. He had received a raven from Dragonstone telling him that Jon had taken Braavos and would soon return to Westeros. _The war will soon begin._

After receiving the northern lords in the great hall to plan for the march down the Kingsroad, Robb walked back to his chambers to spend more time with Margaery. He left their chambers before sunrise and had spent the entire day inspecting the camp of the growing army outside the walls of Winterfell. Surprisingly, three thousand free folk led by Tormund Giantsbane joined the Umbers marching south on the Kingsroad.

When Robb reached the end of the corridor and stood before the door to his chambers, he gently opened the wooden door knowing his wife could be asleep. He could see how tired she was raising their oldest son, Eddard, and caring for their babe, Brynden. Their second son was only nine months old and managed to wake them at all hours of the night as all babes do.

His efforts not to wake her were pointless for he found Margaery sitting in the chair nearest the hearth in their solar with Brynden wrapped in a blanket within her arms. He stood in the doorway admiring the sight as his wife cooed over their son. The crashing of Ned into his leg made him realize he had been staring at Margaery for some time.

“Father! Father! Look at my new sword,” Ned yelled, waving a small wooden sword. Robb couldn’t help but laugh as his son swung wildly, nearly hitting him in the process.

“I see. If you want to be a proper warrior, you will need to learn how to swing it. Where did you get it?” he asked. He did not receive an answer when Grey Wind let out a small growl, causing his son to run to the direwolf in the corner.

“Your mother gave it to him,” Margaery said, still looking into the blazing hearth.

“That does not sound like her,” he answered. _My brothers and I had to beg for a sword when we were older than Ned._

“I do not tell lies, Lord husband,” Margeary answered playfully. Finally looking from the fire, her blue eyes caught his own. “Your mother said the wildlings sent men to fight.”

“Aye, three thousand. Not many considering, but they need to stay in the North in the event the dead breach the Wall,” he replied. _I will bring the entire North to King’s Landing to finish what the Lannisters started._

“You trust leaving that many in the North with so many marching south for war?” she asked.

“I do. Mance Rayder has kept his word and the free folk have stopped the raiding,” he answered. There were still the occasional clashes between the northmen and free folk, but the matters were always resolved with little issue. If it was not for the Night King and the Army of the Dead, Robb guessed they would never come together as allies.

“When do you leave?” she asked.

“In a moon. We still need to give Jon time to return to Dragonstone. We will meet my sister and the Vale lords at the crossroads before the final march on King’s Landing,” he informed her. _We still need to free Loras. Hopefully my good-father leaves the city before Cersei or Tommen or Kevan Lannister take him for a hostage._

As Robb crossed the room to join his wife with his hand on her shoulder, gazing upon their son, he heard several light knocks upon their door. “Come in,” he announced, turning his head to find Maester Wolkan making his way into the lord’s chambers.

“A raven from Duskendale, my Lord,” Wolkan said, handing him the raven scroll with two warhammers crossed on the wax seal holding it together.

“Why would House Rykker be sending a raven to Winterfell?” Margaery asked.

“I do not know. If it was a message from Queen Rhaella, why would they not just send one from Dragonstone,” he said while he began to unfurl the scroll. House Rykker was still loyal to House Targaryen, but Robb could not conjure a reason for them to be sending a raven to him.

As his eyes traced across the scroll, reading the words, Robb understood why House Rykker had sent the raven. _They wanted us to know as soon as possible. How do I tell her? There is no good way to break such news._

“What is it? Robb? Robb?” Margaery asked. He could hear the worry in her voice as she read his face. She had proven to him time after time, he was terrible at hiding his true feelings around her.

“I am sorry, my love. News from King’s Landing,” he answered, hesitating to tell her of the rest. “Your father and Loras are dead.” As the words left his mouth, he could see the lump in her throat before tears streamed down her face.

Robb had seen Margaery filled with tears of joy and a smile full of happiness when their children were born. He had seen her laugh and heard her charming voice when they were alone. He had seen her rage and curse upon hearing of Loras’ imprisonment. He had seen her show every emotion one could experience in life. Every emotion, except for the sadness felt after a loss.

He wanted to say something but could not find the words as she closed her eyes, trying not to upset their son with her current state. As he knelt on the ground, Robb put a hand over her own, holding their son close to her chest. With his other hand, Robb ran his fingers through her smooth hair as he rested his brow against hers as she began to let out her cries.

“How? How did she do it?” Margaery mumbled through her tears.

“Wildfire. Your brother was on trial in the Sept of Baelor and your father was there and…,” he stopped, not wanting to go further. He was not going to avoid how they died, but he did not feel the need to provide any further information. All that mattered in that moment was Margaery’s father and brother were murdered by Cersei Lannister. _At least Tommen is dead. Now Cersei has nothing._

Robb knew what needed to be done. Standing on his feet, he turned to find Maester Wolkan had given them their privacy and left their chambers. “Maester Wolkan!” he called, hoping the maester stood outside their chambers in the corridor.

“Yes, my Lord?” the old man stepped back in, answering to his name.

“Call the banners, all of them. We march south on the morrow. Every lord south of Winterfell is to join us on the Kingsroad. Send a raven to the Eyrie and Dragonstone, letting them know of my intentions. Also, send a raven to Highgarden to Lord Willas and my sister. House Stark will stand with House Tyrell,” Robb ordered the maester who nodded his head and turned to leave for the rookery.

“What about your cousins? I thought you wanted to wait…,” Margaery said with her words dying as he turned back to face her.

“They killed your father and brother. They killed my father. I will wait no longer. My cousins will just have to hurry back to Westeros and join us in this war. The Lannisters are weak. Tommen is dead,” Robb said. _Tywin is gone. The Reach and Vale will stand with us. The Westerlands cannot defeat us now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this was an entertaining update to read while we all wait for episode 2. Good news for people who want to move on from Essos, this was it, last chapter across the Narrow Sea. Next chapter is Dragonstone with POVs from Allyria, Daenerys, Jon & Robb. The chapter will include reunifications, preparations for war, & an important battle to start the war of the lions and dragons (and basically everyone else).
> 
> Tell me what you think or leave in any questions in the comments.


	35. Dragonstone

**304 AC**

**Allyria Tyrell**

She was still unused to the title, Lady of Highgarden. In her life, she had never been treated with such respect outside of the Red Keep or Dorne. Whenever she travelled from King’s Landing on a royal progress with House Targaryen, the lords and ladies looked at her as the bastard child of Lady Ashara Dayne. Some even voiced their displeasure for her presence. As the wife of Lord Willas Tyrell, Allyria felt like a trueborn lady. _Not that I truly care. My family always made me feel wanted._

This morning was like any other since she arrived at Highgarden. She broke her fast with her mother in the great hall with her son in her arms. Allyria was not going to let a septa or some servant girl raise her son. After watching three queens do their best not to let handmaidens do all their motherly duties, Allyria vowed she could do just as much or more as the Lady of Highgarden. The only thing that was different about this morning was Willas’ absence.

Allyria awoke to an empty bed with no sign of her husband in their chambers. It had turned out that way every day since he called his banners and prepared for war. Willas left their chambers every morning before she stirred and left her to fend against the Queen of Thorns’ wits by herself. Allyria never let Olenna treat her like a fool, but she did question where she stood with her. _It was no secret she wanted Margaery to marry Aegon. What does she think of me? The bastard girl who stole the heir of Highgarden?_

Sitting below a pear tree next to one of Highgarden’s many fountains next to her mother, Allyria watched her son wobble across the dark green grass. It was the very spot he took his first steps and she always enjoyed watching him grow braver. He was still too young and small for her to see what type of child he would become, but she prayed for him to be a brave and adventurous child.

A small howl from Winter sitting in the grass next to her tore her attention from her son to the sight of her husband marching into the garden in his dark green tunic and dark brown breeches. Much to her liking, he began to wear less extravagant clothing than the other lords of the Reach and the other members of House Tyrell. Allyria wanted Willas in simple, yet elegant clothes that were less colorful. _Winter is coming. He should not be dressed like the knights of summer._

She could not hold back the smile on her lips as she watched Willas sneak behind Arthur and pick up their son. Her boy giggled as her husband held him high in the air, bouncing him around before settling Arthur in his arms. “We need to speak,” he said, looking at her with an intense gaze.

“I will give you your privacy,” her mother said, moving to leave, only to be stopped by Willas.

“No, I want you here for this. Lord Hightower has arrived with his men. Houses Tarly, Blackbar, Costayne, Florent, Bulwer, Mullendore, and Beesbury are ready to march. We will leave at nightfall. The rest will join us along the road. Our scouts report a Lannister host near Tarbeck Hall. They may march down the Ocean Road when we leave. I want you, your mother, and our son to leave for Starfall on the morrow. I am leaving men to defend Highgarden, but it will not withstand a well-provisioned army from the Westerlands,” Willas said.

“Nonsense. We are coming with you,” she protested, standing to close the distance between them.

“Allyria, I am riding off to war. There is no place for you or our child,” he argued. She knew he was protective and she would agree with him if she did not know the details of the planned siege of King’s Landing. Her brother was marching south with thirty-five thousand northerners, three thousand free folk with Sansa joining him with forty thousand men from the Vale. _Against seventy thousand men from the Reach, Cersei cannot possibly win. Even with the Golden Company and the Greyjoy fleet._

“We are going with you. Is there a safer place than in the middle of seventy thousand men loyal to you? I have not seen my brother or sister in years. With their armies joined with ours, there is nothing to fear from the Lannisters. And you read the raven last night, Jon will be returning to Dragonstone soon. If there is a battle, they will fly to join us,” she said, knowing in her heart the Targaryens would not miss any more battles in Westeros. _Their time in Essos is coming to an end. They are coming home._

“Starfall,” he answered flatly, trying to end the conversation with a simple answer.

“We are going. You knew who you wed. Do not look surprised,” she told him after he blinked at her initial response. “Do not worry, if danger comes to us, Winter will protect us.” _She would never allow anyone to lay their hands on me or our son._

“Allyria, I am not a Targaryen. I do not have dragons that can burn entire armies and protect you from any danger. I want you at Starfall, as far away from the Westerlands and King’s Landing as possible,” Willas countered, brushing her cheek with his thumb.

She rolled her eyes at the gesture. “You are not going to win this argument. I will pack our things. Do your part Lord husband and have a wheelhouse prepared for us,” she continued, pulling their son from his arms into her own.

 

“He is right, you know,” she heard her mother say as she fumbled through her wardrobe, sifting through her many choices. The Citadel had already sent the white raven, signaling winter was here. It may never get too cold in Highgarden, but they were travelling north and Allyria searched for her fur-lined cloaks and dresses.

“You are supposed to be on my side, Mother,” she said, shaking her head at the idea of her mother siding with Willas. _We have journeyed to far more dangerous places than King’s Landing. The city will be surrounded by our allies._

“I am, but what about Arthur?” her mother replied, moving in to help her move her clothes into the chest brought in by the servants earlier.

“I would never let anything happen to him. If a battle occurs before we reach King’s Landing, then we will keep our distance from the battle,” she answered. _If they are smart, they will stay behind the walls of King’s Landing._

“Just because your sister travels with her army does not mean you need to do the same,” her mother continued, referring to the raven she received from the Eyrie. Sansa wrote to her, telling of the army Harrold Arryn raised and planned to join with Willas’ army.

Allyria wondered what her little sister looked like now. _Likely a great beauty, well-suited to being the Lady of the Eyrie._ She had not seen Sansa in years and was eager to reunite with her. She also could not wait to see Robb. _Last time we saw each other, I was just Ashara Dayne’s bastard in his eyes. Now we are sister and brother._

“If Sansa rides off to war and I do not, I will never hear the end of it from Arya,” she jested, knowing she would see her sister again. _I know it. She is out there somewhere. I know it._ Arya was even younger than Sansa when Allyria last saw her. She could only imagine how different she looked or how much she had changed. _How could she not be different? She has been out there, alone, with no family._

“It’s hardly the same. Sansa is not a mother. You are,” her mother said, taking a seat in a chair across her chambers near the window that provided a beautiful view of the green fields surrounding Highgarden. While it still felt strange to her, Allyria could not deny her home was beautiful and she knew it would be a good place to build a family.

“If you are worried about the road to King’s Landing, you are free to stay here. I am sure Lady Olenna will enjoy the company,” she said, knowing how much her mother disliked the Queen of Thorns. No matter how pleasant Olenna might be, Allyria knew her mother held a deep mistrust for her.

“That is an honor I could do without. I am going with you,” her mother answered.

 

It was nearly two hours after nightfall and Allyria could hear the army beginning to move outside the walls of Highgarden. With her son warmly bundled in a cover, she carried him across the courtyard to the awaiting wheelhouse in front of the main gate. Winter was already waiting at her mother’s side next to the wheelhouse guarded by twenty men on horseback.

While crossing the courtyard past the two fountains that greeted visitors to Highgarden, Allyria glimpsed her good-brother, Garlan Tyrell, riding off with nearly one hundred men outside the gate. When they learned of Mace and Loras’ fates, Garlan was the most upset and Allyria feared he would be just as impulsive as his dead brother. Much to her relief, Willas was able to calm his younger brother’s temper and reason with him that they would get their revenge.

“We cannot seem to stay in one place for very long,” her mother said while helping her into the wheelhouse with her son in her arms. She could see her mother was just as prepared for winter as she was with the thick grey cloak she wore over her dark violet dress. Her mother’s colors reminded her of the two houses from whence she came. Since marrying Willas, Allyria turned to wearing more dresses with green and gold, but still favored her violets and greys.

“No. When winter is over and the wars have been won, we will return. This is home,” she said, looking outside the wheelhouse at the fountains and trees lining the courtyard. Allyria was confident of defeating Cersei Lannister, but that did not prevent her from worrying about the threat beyond the Wall. Never had she seen fear in Jon Targaryen’s eyes until he returned from Hardhomme and recounted the enemy he fought.

“Garlan said a raven came from your brother,” her mother said, sitting beside her inside the spacious wheelhouse that could easily fit several more ladies.

“Aye. His army has crossed the Neck. They will join us south of the Blackwater Rush and march on King’s Landing together,” she said. Willas wanted to avoid an ambush along the Roseroad through the Kingswood and decided it was best that their army abandon the Roseroad at the Mander. From there, they would travel along a road that followed the Mander past Tumbleton.

“And Sunspear?”

“Nothing. Edric said they would march north as soon as possible, but we have not received another raven,” she confirmed. Allyria was not worried about the support from Arianne and her cousin. They were loyal to House Targaryen and would stand with the Reach, now that she was the Lady of Highgarden.

When they began to move, Allyria glanced outside through the mesh window to find Winter howling into the night sky before following them out the main gate. The night was dark and it was hard for her to see from where she sat, but Allyria could hear the strength of their host. Tens of thousands of men rode with them to war and more would join them along the way.

_It is finally time for Cersei to pay for her crimes. To pay for murdering my father. To pay for murdering my husband’s father and brother. To pay for murdering Rhaegar and Aegon. Westeros will finally return to the rule of House Targaryen and my cousins._

 

 

**Daenerys Targaryen**

Ruling was never something Daenerys ever expected as a princess, raised in the Red Keep. All she dreamt of was marrying Jon and raising a family at Summerhall. When they claimed their khalasar and took Pentos, Jon did not ask her to help him rule. It just turned out that way and she liked it. She was good at it and now that she had spent years as a Queen ruling at her King’s side, Daenerys would never give up the power she had gained.

As much as she loved her Queenly responsibilities, Daenerys was relieved to have a reprieve from the weight those responsibilities put on her shoulders. There was nothing they could do at sea, disconnected from their kingdom in Essos and the lands they ruled in Westeros. In the time since they had left Braavos, she enjoyed her much needed rest and full days with her children.

It was the same with her newborns as all her other children. She did not want to let them go and held them as often as she could everyday aboard the _Sea Dragon_. To her amazement, her youngest son, Daeron found no troubles falling asleep on the ship travelling across the Narrow Sea. His twin sister was just as easy to handle, never requiring as much mothering as some of their older brothers and sisters.

Since leaving Braavos, Daenerys was able to wake late in the mornings with Visenya and Rhaenys. Jon was always missing, off to consult with their advisors and plan for the coming wars. This morning was different because she knew they would reach Dragonstone before midday. She hardly slept in the night, despite the calm seas and warmth provided by her King in their bed. _I have not seen my mother in years. She has not even seen one of her grandchildren. How could I sleep?_

No longer in the hot climates of Essos, Daenerys dressed for the colder weather on Dragonstone. Winter was here and it was noticeably colder as they entered Blackwater Bay, but it was certainly not the North. _Not yet anyway._ Doreah and Missandei assisted her to select a simple dark grey dress with a cape and breeches to wear under her skirt. Rhaenys wore something similar, but her dress and cape were the red of House Targaryen. Visenya’s was nearly identical to her own except it was black with red fabric on the inside of her cape.

Now sitting on a crate on the deck of their war galley with her babes in her arm, Daenerys cooed over the little violet eyes staring back at her. Daeron and Rhaella possessed her eyes and Valyrian hair. She cherished how small and precious they were. _They are the last children I will ever have. Before I know it, they will be running around, causing terror through the castle like Rhaegar and Arya. I will not take this time for granted._

Visenya sat beside her with her infant son Robb, who possessed his mother’s hair and Stark grey eyes. Lyanna held his twin, Maekar, who carried the typical Targaryen features. Daenerys could not help but smile at the overprotective Silver walking back and forth near Visenya. The direwolves were still the same overbearing and ever watchful guardians of their children. Even at sea, that did not change.

Across the deck, at the ship’s starboard side, she could see Rhaenys discussing something with Elia. Rhaenys had given birth to a healthy prince and princess. Maelor’s eyes looked just like his father’s and it appeared he received his raven hair as well. His sister, Elia, also held Jon’s eyes, but Rhaenys’ hair. She wondered where the little babes were considering Rhaenys hardly left them alone, until two handmaidens carried them to Rhaenys from below deck.

While Dragonstone was known for its storms, rain, and gloomy weather, Daenerys was pleased to find blue skies and white clouds overhead. The waves beating against the ship’s hull were small and made for a pleasant time on the final day of their journey home.

The sound of Eddard yelling to his sister Senya caught her attention and she proceeded to move her eyes away from the sleeping babes to her son five feet away. Jumping up and down, her small son pointed to the hundreds of ships sailing around them. Eddard always loved ships and thought his siblings shared the same passion for them as he did. Daenerys beamed at the joy she saw on her little princess’ face when she ran from Jon’s side to be with her twin brother. Their children were all close to one another, but nothing seemed to break the bonds shared by twins.

Daenerys lost track of time, speaking with Visenya and Lyanna about their babes and how their older children would react to living on Dragonstone. That conversation led to memories they recalled from their childhood. Many of her fondest memories were on the island. _Wandering the caves with Jon, dancing through Aegon’s Garden with Rhaenys, racing Visenya on horseback to the nearby fishing village, Allyria daring me to kiss Jon on the cheek for the first time, and Aegon sneaking me wine for the first time._

Lyanna even retold some of her loveliest memories with Rhaegar. It still hurt to think of her brother and Aegon no longer being there with them, but Daenerys could now smile at the mention of their names. The recounting of stories about her brother she had never heard before were a welcomed distraction as they sailed across the Blackwater.

“Muna, jurnegon! Jurnegon! Jurnegon, Dragonstone!” she heard Arya scream, jumping at the bow of the ship at Jon’s side. Her wild daughter was pointing franticly at the horizon ahead. When she locked eyes with her husband, the shake of his head confirmed Arya was right and they would soon be home. _Our true home. I know Jon and Visenya love the North, but we are Targaryens. Nothing compares to Dragonstone. Not even the godswood of Winterfell or the gardens of Summerhall or the halls of Maegor’s Holdfast._

“Here, leave one of them with me,” Lyanna said, allowing her to leave Daeron with his grandmother. With Rhaella still in her arms, Daenerys approached her husband and little children gathered at the bow. Rhaenys was already hunched over, pointing at the castle of Dragonstone in the distance, whispering something to Aegon and Nymeria.

“Mother, look, we are here. Where you were born. Take us to the caves. Take us to the caves. Please, I promise to be good,” Arya begged, giving her the pleading look she always gave her father. _She always thinks her charms will work on me. She is mistaken._

“Arya, we will have plenty of time to visit the caves, but first we need to settle our things in the castle. And your grandmother Rhaella should very much like to see you,” she told her daughter who initially frowned until hearing of their grandmother she had never met.

“Where are the storms?” Rhaegar asked, looking to the sky for any signs of dark clouds gathering. Jon let out a laugh next to her, shaking his head at what their son had said.

“My son, it does not always storm on Dragonstone. I was born during a great storm, but that does not mean it storms day and night,” she told her confused son.

“Does it snow?” Rhaegar asked.

“Sometimes, Rhaegar. Winter is here and snows can fall at Dragonstone. One day, you will see the great snows of the North,” Jon promised. She watched Jon kneel down and point to Dragonstone with a hand on their eldest son’s shoulder. “You see the castle, the island. This will all be yours to rule one day. You are the Prince of Dragonstone and one day you will be the King.” _I pray that day does not come for a long time._

Her son was still too young to understand the implications of what Jon said, but Daenerys still felt pride watching her husband tell his heir that he would rule Dragonstone one day. The thought of her son ruling his own keep one day reminded her of the hopes she held for all her children. It was never discussed in detail, but Jon, Visenya, and Rhaenys agreed they would build more castles for House Targaryen. _Our family is already growing too large for the Red Keep._

“It has been too long,” she heard Visenya say over her shoulder. Daenerys briefly glanced back to find Visenya with unshed tears in her eyes at the sight of Dragonstone.

“Yes, it has,” she replied, turning back to their home, clutching Rhaella close to her chest. Her daughter was now asleep in her arms, too tired to bother with the commotion on the deck of the ship. The sailors of the _Sea Dragon_ were scrambling to ready the boats that were meant to take them ashore.

While their fleet would anchor at the port of Dragonstone to resupply before the blockade of Blackwater Bay, they intended to land at the beach nearest the castle. Daenerys did not want to delay her reunion with her mother any longer and everyone else felt the same. _My mother has been alone for far too long. A Targaryen alone in this world is a terrible thing._

“Your Graces, the boats are ready,” Ser Barristan informed them, dressed in his Kingsguard armor. Daenerys was glad to see their Lord Commander wear the armor again. It was not practical in Essos to wear the traditional armor of the Kingsguard and Jon was forced to order them to wear something more appropriate. _I do not need my Kingsguard dropping dead from the heat before lifting their swords to defend us, I think Jon said._

“Good, see to it the Queens and the children are assisted boarding them,” Jon commanded. Daenerys watched Barristan pull Aemon and Naerys along with him to the waiting boats, being readied to take them ashore. Her direwolf, Snow, was already sitting on her hind legs in one of the boats waiting for her to join.

“I will see you when we reach the shore,” Jon said, placing a gentle kiss upon her lips before withdrawing to collect the oldest of the children. Clutching Rhaella close to her chest, Daenerys smoothed her hand lightly over her daughter’s silver hair as she followed Aemon and Naerys to the boat guarded by her direwolf. _I still remember when she was just a small pup squirming in my arms in the godswood of Winterfell. Now she is almost the size of a horse._

Ser Barristan was quick to assist her climb into the boat and settle herself comfortably for the small distance they needed to cross to Dragonstone. With the sea captain yelling orders to his sailors, she looked to the black sails blowing in the kind winds, swiftly carrying them closer to her home. Aemon and Naerys began to cheer as the sailors pulled on the ropes, lifting their boat from the deck of the _Sea Dragon_ over the port side over the churning waves of the Narrow Sea.

To her relief, their best sailors proved their worth and carefully settled their boat into the sea. A quick glance over her shoulder brought her the delight of Aemon, Naerys, Daemon, and Benjen huddled close together, trying to peer over the men rowing them ashore. Their younger siblings were being held by several Dothraki handmaidens Irri and Jhiqui promised would not fail them.

Now that they were so close, her eyes were locked on her favorite beach on the entire island. Daenerys held many fond memories from the small beach that led to the dragonglass caves she ventured through as a small girl. _I hope my children hold Dragonstone close to their hearts as I do. Perhaps they will even get up to mischief and sneak out of the castle to explore the island as I had._

As the sailors kept rowing through the relatively gentle sea a mile from shore, Daenerys heard the roars of their dragons from behind. “Drogon!” she heard Naerys yell as the great black-scaled dragon flew overhead with great speed. Viserion and Rhaegal were close behind, making for the imposing castle built by her ancestors.

Dragonstone did not hold the beauty of Highgarden or Horn Hill, but that was not House Targaryen’s intention. The large castle, built from dark grey stone, stood strongly against the cliffs. It was a keep worthy of dragonriders and the last remaining great family of Old Valyria. It was meant to intimidate the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros and stage the beginning of a westward expansion of the Freehold. _If it were practical, I would have Jon move the court and seat of the King of Westeros here._

All her dreams of dragons flying over her home had finally come true. She still watched their dragons in awe as all twelve of the great beasts circled Dragonstone, letting the castle know of their arrival. _It will be an even greater sight when more dragons are hatched and our children have dragons of their own. We will make our House greater than it ever was. Greater than all the forty Great Houses of Valyria._

The time passed by as she lost herself in the memories of her childhood on Dragonstone until the boat began to row through the breaking waves. There, she finally saw her mother standing near the water’s edge. Her mother was just as she remembered her. She was still the beautiful Dragon Queen that commanded the respect of all at court while still keeping a gentle heart and caring aura.

Jon’s boat hit the beach first and Daenerys felt a tear hit her cheek as she gazed upon their eldest children running to her mother. Rhaegar and Arya led their brothers and sisters out of the boat to meet their grandmother. From the corner of her vision, she could see Rhaenys and Visenya nearly reaching the beach in their respective boats.

The moment their boat hit ground and came to a rough, abrupt halt, Jon was immediately there to help her set her feet on the sand. Her daughter was now awake and moving in her arms. After placing a small peck on her daughter’s brow, Daenerys found her mother kneeling on the ground, speaking with the little princes and princesses. Before she could yell at them to stop running, Aemon, Naerys, Benjen, and Daemon brushed past her.

Behind her mother, she could see Lord Monford Velaryon, Ser Jonothor Darry, and a host of Targaryen household guard protecting the beach. Free from the trappings of a ship at sea, she saw the direwolves running around the beach. Lyanna and Elia were just stepping off their boats when Daenerys turned her attention back to her mother, who looked happier than ever.

Her mother noticed her approach and gave her a loving smile while her daughter, Senya, played with her mother’s curls. As she closed the distance, Daenerys felt more tears pass down her face as she finally stood before her mother. Her mother looked her up and down until placing a gentle squeeze upon her arm.

“My beautiful daughter. I am so proud of you. Who is this little one?” her mother asked, letting her babe wrap her small little hands around her finger.

“This is Princess Rhaella,” she replied. Daenerys smiled at the initial shock written across her mother’s face. It did not take much for her mother to shed tears of joy before pulling her in for a hug with her daughter moving in her grasp.

“She looks beautiful,” her mother said while staring upon the little babe’s violet eyes. “May I hold her?”

“Of course,” she replied, easing little Rhaella into the arms of the woman she was named for. _This is why we will win. I will not allow this family to be broken apart again. Not by the Lannisters nor the Dead._

“And I assume the other babes over there are Lyanna and Rhaenys,” her mother said, nodding to the handmaidens approaching with her beautiful daughters with raven hair.

“Yes, and their brother, Prince Daeron,” she replied, looking to Lyanna carrying Daeron in her arms.

“It seems there are more Targaryens than at any point in our history. I am happy to finally set eyes upon the princes and princesses I only heard stories about,” he mother said, bouncing little Rhaella in her arms. “Is my sweet daughter content with a dozen of her own?”

“Yes, mother. Jon and I promised each other. Daeron and Rhaella are our last, however, Visenya and Rhaenys still wish for more I think,” she replied.

“You will have to tell me the story about the dragons later. Rhaenys! Visenya! My beautiful granddaughters,” her mother cheerfully greeted the two approaching.

“Grandmother, we have missed you so much,” Visenya said while embracing Daenerys’ mother, still holding Princess Rhaella in her arms. Knowing her mother had more little ones to coo over, Daenerys moved in to lift her youngest daughter back into her own arms. It did not seem to please the babe, as she let out a small cry in frustration for being parted from her namesake.

“Not as much as I have missed the both of you. Uncle Aemon told me you found yourself a missing sword. And you, Rhaenys, motherhood becomes you. Your father would have been proud to see the Queens you have become,” her mother declared, looking proudly at each of them.

They lingered on the beach a bit longer, letting the children play in the sand and run through the rising surf. While the eldest chased after the direwolves and pretended to be dragons, Daenerys stood at Jon’s side watching her mother acquaint herself with each of the babes. While most people found it difficult to look away from the dragons when first laying eyes upon them, her mother only had eyes for her grandchildren.

It finally took Jon corralling Rhaegar and Arya to end the chaos around them. Daenerys shook her head as Jon whispered something to their daughter, making her listen to him. _She never listens to me like Rhaegar does._ Once they were all gathered, Jon led their party off the beach to the stone stairs that climbed up the cliff leading to the castle of Dragonstone.

Leaving her babes to be carried by the handmaidens, Daenerys climbed each of the steps at Jon’s side with Visenya and Rhaenys close behind. After them, trailed her mother, Lyanna, Elia, their eldest children who could walk on their own two feet, and the direwolves. Behind them came their advisors, handmaidens, and household guard. Their Kingsguard led the way with Ghost ahead of Jon.

Their castle came into view after reaching the top of the stairs and passing through the open gate surrounded by the heads of dragons carved into stone. With the sun beginning to shine brightly upon the dark grey stones, they continued to climb the stairs surrounded on either side by the sea.

At the end of the walkway, Daenerys trailed behind Ghost and the Kingsguard to the open gate of Dragonstone with their dragons still flying above the keep. Through the gate, she saw what must have been hundreds of knights and men at arms awaiting the arrival of their King. She beamed with pride as she watched the smiles on the faces of Targaryen loyalists who were happy to see the one true king return to Westeros. Every man, woman, and child in the courtyard bent the knee, showing fealty to Jon and House Targaryen.

Amongst the men on bended knee, Daenerys found Lords Duram Bar Emmon, Justin Massey, Ardrian Celtigar, Renfred Rykker, Meryn Buckwell, and Simon Staunton. It appeared every lord from the Crownlands had arrived at Dragonstone and were here to bend the knee. Daenerys even saw members of Houses Rosby and Stokeworth on bended knee with nervous faces. She made sure to make her glare towards them obvious and direct. _They were more than eager to seek favor with House Lannister. At least House Hayford kept my mother apprised of anything they learned from King’s Landing._

“Rise, my Lords. Thank you for coming to Dragonstone. I will speak with each of you at tonight’s feast. Now if you would forgive us, my family needs to settle our things before joining you in the great hall,” Jon said for all to hear. The lords did well to hide any disappointment if they held any. Each of them smiled as they parted to make way for their entrance into the main keep.

As their footsteps echoed through the corridors, she was happy to see her daughter Visenya running through the halls with her sisters, Dany and Nymeria. They loved the dragons, griffins, basilisks, hellhounds, manticores, and wyverns carved into the stone of the castle. _They always love when we tell them the stories of great beasts and dark creatures from Old Valyria._ Even Arya and Rhaegar seemed to forget the great pyramid of Meereen and accepted that this was their home.

Reaching the top floor of the Stone Drum, Daenerys led her children to their new rooms. Each of them were pleased to find spacious rooms of their own that provided views of the Blackwater. All of the babes would share a nursery, but their eldest shared rooms with a brother or sister. While showing Arya and Senya their new chambers, she noticed men already waiting outside to bring in her daughters’ belongings from the _Sea Dragon_.

Leaving her daughters to their own devices, Daenerys wandered down the hallway toward the King’s chambers. There, she found Jon with Visenya and Rhaenys overseeing their wardrobe and personal belongings placed where they wanted them. It felt odd taking what once belonged to her brother and his Queens. _It probably feels even stranger to Visenya and Rhaenys._

 

After an hour of settling everyone into their new quarters, Daenerys brought their children into the throne room to see all that their ancestors had built. With sunlight illuminating the room, she watched Arya grab her brother’s hand, leading him to throne.

“Come on Rhaegar, sit up here,” Arya told Rhaegar as she sat the throne. “You are the Prince of Dragonstone. This is your throne.”

“It’s Father’s,” Rhaegar argued, shying away from what his future held.

“It will be yours one day, when you come of age,” Jon followed up, ruffling their son’s raven curls.

“And mine!” Arya declared, causing Daenerys to let out a small laugh as Jon turned to give her a knowing look. She could do nothing but shake her head. _My sweet daughter is too young to understand. She will be allowed to choose her betrothed one day. She will not be forced to wed her brother as my mother was to my father._

“Jon, Brandon, get over here,” she heard Visenya order. She spotted the two little princes pulling on a Targaryen banner near the entrance to the throne room. Both scurried to their mother’s side with looks of mischief. “I think it is time we show them the table.”

“Aye,” Jon replied, lifting Rhaegar and Arya from the throne and escorting them down the steps to the corridor nearest the throne. The distance from the throne room to the Chamber of the Painted Table was short. Inside, she found the familiar table covered with carved figurines representing the armies of Westeros. At a quick glance, she even spotted newly carved figurines in the North representing the wildlings and some representing their Essosi forces on the small table along the wall, yet to be used.

“Egg, Nymeria, this table was created by Aegon the Conqueror. This is where he planned his conquest of the Seven Kingdoms. This table is a map of all of Westeros,” Rhaenys said, pulling the children along the edge of the table. Pointing at Dragonstone, she continued, “We are here. There is King’s Landing, where I was born, in the Red Keep. And there, at the end of the table, is where the King sits.”

“Where Father sits?” Aegon asked.

“Yes, where your father sits,” Rhaenys replied, looking to Jon with a smile on her face.

Standing near Lannisport at the Painted Table, Daenerys found Brandon had found his way to the edge of the table, reaching for the carved lion to play with. She was not going to stop the little prince, but Jon intervened, lifting the figurine from Brandon’s small hands. “That’s enough little lad,” Jon said.

“Doreah, take the children back to the Throne Room and let them play. I will find you later,” she ordered her faithful handmaiden.

“Yes, your Grace. Come along now, sweetlings. Let your father and mothers rule the Seven Kingdoms. We are going to go on an adventure of our own,” Doreah said, gathering all their children to leave the room just as their advisors began to enter.

“Shall we begin?” Jon asked, now standing beside his chair, at the edge of table where Dorne was painted. She nodded her head, moving to join him with a clear view of Blackwater Bay behind them. She took a chair from the corner and moved it to sit directly next to him. Visenya took a seat at the corner of the table, near the Redwyne Straits, while Rhaenys sat at the other corner beside Jon.

Davos Seaworth occupied the chair closest to Rhaenys with Ser Jorah, Lord Tyrion, Varys, and Ser Jonothor Darry taking the chairs beside their Hand. To her left, Lyanna, Elia, her mother, Missandei, Grey Worm, Monford Velaryon, and Ardrian Celtigar took the remaining seats. Barristan, Arthur, and Oswell stood behind them, not wishing leave their guard duties.

“Before we begin, there is something you must know,” her mother said, causing her to worry as she tried to read the look on her face. “Cersei is now the Queen in King’s Landing.”

“Queen? I don’t understand…,” Jon replied with the same puzzled look she had.

“Tommen is dead. Cersei destroyed the Great Sept of Baelor with wildfire. It is gone, along with everyone else inside. Mace Tyrell, Loras Tyrell, the Sparrows, Kevan Lannister, and hundreds of others,” her mother answered.

“I cannot believe my sister killed her own son, despite how terrible she may be,” Tyrion spoke up with a look of disbelief formed on his face.

“And she did not. Tommen killed himself. He leapt from the window of his chamber in the Red Keep after the sept was destroyed. Apparently, the Westerling girl who perished in the wildfire held his favor,” her mother said. _I will have to thank Cersei for this one deed. I feel sorry for Tyrion, but Tommen needed to die. Better by Cersei’s hand, directly or indirectly, than our own._

Daenerys also did not care for Mace Tyrell or his son, Loras. She liked Willas, but she thought his father a fool and his brother an impulsive idiot. What she did not like was the fact that the Sept of Baelor now lay a ruin. She did not care about the Faith of the Seven, but she did care about the remains of her ancestors that were inside the great structure. _Jon will likely have a crypt built here on Dragonstone. I know I will protest the construction of a great sept for the Faith with our gold._

“What does their strength look like?” Jon asked, moving the subject away from the death of Tyrion’s nephew.

“Jaime Lannister has returned to King’s Landing with an army of twenty thousand from the Riverlands. Altogether, the Cersei commands an army of fifty-five thousand from the Westerlands. They do not hold the strength they did before the war. Many are green boys, replacing those killed in the war. The Golden Company has twenty thousand men and war elephants. Another twenty thousand sellswords from Essos are camped outside King’s Landing and Euron Greyjoy has over one thousand ships at anchor,” Jonothor Darry said, pointing at the capital on the Painted Table.

“Euron Greyjoy will not stay anchored at King’s Landing forever. He will try to attack us where we are weak. He is still the same coward who burned the fleet at Lannisport and watched his brothers get slaughtered in the siege of Pyke,” Jon replied, looking carefully over the table. “Have we received a raven from Sunspear?”

“Yes, your Grace. Arianne Martell and Edric Dayne have retaken Sunspear. The Sand Snakes are dead and Edric is already leading an army north. Willas Tyrell is already on the march up the Roseroad. Robb Stark has already crossed the Neck with thirty-five thousand northmen and three thousand wildlings. Harrold Arryn is waiting to join him at the Crossroads with an army of forty thousand. They plan to join Willas Tyrell south of the Blackwater Rush and march on King’s Landing from the south. Stannis and his son have gathered a host of twenty thousand men at Storm’s End waiting for your command to march,” Jonothor Darry filled them in. _The war is finally here. We are so close to taking back all that is ours._

“And the Riverlands?” Jon asked with a wary voice.

“The Blackfish is rallying what men he can. My brother sent a raven three days ago, saying they planned to join the North and the Vale at the Crossroads,” Ser Jonothor replied.

“Send a raven to Storm’s End. Let Lord Stannis know it is time. He is to take his men up the Kingsroad and meet our Dothraki at the edge of the Kingswood. I have already ordered our ships to ferry the Dothraki to Sharp Point. Yara Greyjoy will blockade the Gullet and protect any attack on the ships carrying the khalasar. Grey Worm, you will take the Unsullied and land at Duskendale. Lord Rykker will assist your men and from there, you will march on King’s Landing from the north,” Jon ordered, confident in his plans for the siege of King’s Landing.

“Before I forget, my King, Lord Manderly is sailing from White Harbor with his fleet and Paxter Redwyne is sailing with his own fleet,” Ser Jonothor added.

“That is it. That is where Euron Greyjoy will strike. As the Redwyne’s enter the Gullet, Euron will have his chance to eliminate an ally and kill the Ironborn who still deny his claim on Pyke,” Jon said.

“Shall I order the Velaryon fleet to set a trap for him, my King?” their Master of Ships asked, sitting awfully close to her mother. Daenerys pursed her lips as she tried to figure out if anything was going on between the two.

“No, my Lord. Your fleet will continue to protect Dragonstone and Driftmark. I will deal with Euron Greyjoy myself,” Jon said, causing her to twist in her seat. She was ready to protest until she felt is hand rest on her thigh, telling her they would discuss this amongst themselves later. _If he thinks I will let him fly off to destroy the Greyjoys by himself…_

“Your Grace, it’s too great a risk. You are too important. All it takes is one lucky bastard with a well-placed arrow,” Davos protested with a concerned look.

“I value your counsel Lord Davos, but this is something I must do. Our dragons will destroy Euron and his fleet. If we only use our ships to attack, he will escape. The Ironborn will be dealt with once and for all,” Jon replied. _I know that look. There is no changing his mind on this._

“Where do we stand with the mining of dragonglass?” she asked, shifting the conversation away from how they would eliminate the lone threat in Blackwater Bay.

“Half of the dragonglass weapons have been sent to Winterfell. The remaining half is still here on Dragonstone. More than enough has been turned into weapons to arm your armies, your Grace,” Ser Jonothor replied.

“We have brought enough food from Essos to feed our armies and the North for three years. Send a raven to Highgarden and the houses of the Reach they will need to send their surplus food north for the war against the Dead,” Jon ordered. Daenerys hoped the war would not last that long. _Years in the North, fighting the Army of the Dead in winter? That will be disastrous, even in victory._

“After King’s Landing is taken and we march north, who rules King’s Landing? Who rules the southern kingdoms and Essos?” Tyrion asked, seemingly uninterested in the details of the war against the White Walkers.

“Another matter for another time Lord Tyrion. For now, we will focus on taking back King’s Landing,” Jon answered before looking to her and his sisters. “If there is nothing more, leave us.”

She could tell Tyrion was unpleased by the look on his face that was almost hidden by his beard. He was hesitant to leave his seat, but joined the rest, heading for the door. Monford Velaryon also lingered for a moment, looking to her mother before her mother dismissed him with her eyes. _Something is definitely going on between those two._

Lyanna watched the Lord of Driftmark disappear before staring Jon down. “My son, you do not need to go flying off, in search of Euron Greyjoy’s fleet. He could be anywhere. His fleet is no match for ours. Do not do this,” Lyanna pleaded.

“I know where he will be. The only question is when. Varys’ spies will tell us when Euron leaves King’s Landing and when he does, we will be waiting for him,” Jon argued, shaking his head at his mother’s worry.

“She is right, we should let our fleet handle the Ironborn,” Daenerys added. _I want to burn the Ironborn, but we have larger concerns now._

“My decision is final. I am going to burn Euron and his fleet,” Jon stopped them.

“Then we are going with you,” Rhaenys said, glaring at Jon so he would know he could not argue his way out of it.

“And if I forbade it?” he asked.

“I wish you good fortune trying to stop Myrax,” Rhaenys said with a smirk on her lips.

“I do not want any of you lingering over their fleet for long. We surprise them and attack with a second pass. Yara Greyjoy and Paxter Redwyne will finish the rest,” Jon replied, now stressed over their presence in the planned attack. _Now he knows how we feel._

“Agreed,” Daenerys replied. “There is still the matter of feasting with the lords of the Crownlands.”

“I think I shall introduce Lords Rosby and Stokeworth to Moonlight and Kios,” Rhaenys jested, sitting back in her seat, no longer looking over the Painted Table. _Or is it a jest?_

“At least we know the opportunists close to us,” Visenya added.

“The Crownlands are not what worry me. If we defeat the Night King and his army, we still have to rule the Westerlands and Riverlands. Some of the Riverlords will hold a grudge over our time in Essos. And the Westerlands? How many will die in this war? They will be our enemy for generations,” Jon mused, with a worn-down look of a King who had not seen sleep. _The Night King is what truly gives him restless nights._

“That is why you must show them your full strength,” her mother spoke up. “Show them what your dragons can do and what it means to stand against our House. Give them one chance to bend the knee and not after.”

“What about the Golden Company and the other sellsword companies? Will you promise them gold to come to our side?” Elia asked, sipping on a Dornish red.

“They sealed their fate the moment they crossed the Narrow Sea. They are not smallfolk, forced to fight by some lord,” Rhaenys replied. _The Golden Company should pray to all the gods that Rhaenys does not come upon them with Myrax. They should pray I do not come across them._

 

As she slowly pulled the covers up to Naerys’ chin, Daenerys tried to stop herself from laughing at the vision in front of her. Naerys insisted on staying up with her older sisters and had already fallen asleep just after laying down on the bed. Her daughters, Arya and Visenya, were still giggling about something on the other side of the bed. The feast in the Great Hall had ended nearly an hour before and Daenerys was putting the last of her children to sleep.

After a sleeping Naerys snuggled deeper into the warmth of the furs, Daenerys walked around the bed to sit on the side with her two eldest daughters. “Did you enjoy the feast?” she questioned.

“Who were all the strangers?” Visenya asked.

“The Lords and Ladies of the Crownlands. Some of them were the smallfolk who live here on Dragonstone. They are good people, loyal to our House. You will understand one day,” she said, brushing her fingers through Visenya’s long, silver hair. Wanting both of them to fall asleep, Daenerys pulled on the furs to cover Visenya and Arya.

Just as she pulled the furs up to their little faces, the crack of thunder and a flash of lightning illuminated the room. The thunder caused Visenya to nearly jump out of the bed while Arya held an excited look. _That is the same face I had when I would watch the thunderstorms with Jon._

“Is this storm like the one when you were born?” Arya asked.

“I don’t know my sweetling. I was just a baby. On the morrow, you should ask Grandmother Rhaella,” she told her wild little princess. _From what I was always told, I was born in a storm far greater than this one._

“Can we go to the beach and caves?” Visenya asked, settling into the pillow she shared with her sister.

“If you behave yourself and ask your grandmother nicely, I am sure she will take you,” she answered, still brushing her hand through her daughter’s hair. “That means not hitting your brothers with your sword,” she continued, giving Arya a knowing look.

“Where was Aunt Allyria? I miss her,” Arya huffed, finally falling back into her pillow.

“She is in the Reach, living in a castle called Highgarden. You will see it one day. It sits on a large hill and you can see for miles around it. Green fields and forests on rolling hills. And there are so many fountains and gardens inside the castle,” she told her daughters, recalling her memories of her childhood visit during a royal progress through the Reach.

“Gardens and fountains like Lys?” Visenya mumbled.

 _“_ Yes, like Lys,” she replied, seeing Visenya was nearly asleep.

“I like Dragonstone more,” Arya stated, having never seen Highgarden yet. _That is my daughter. I have told her enough stories of dragons and Dragonstone that she will never think a place better than here._

Daenerys stilled herself until Arya’s eyes grew heavy like her sister’s and fell asleep. As quietly as possible, she stood from their bed and blew out the candle on the table beside the bed. While pushing the door to the bedchambers open, she snuck a quick peek back at her three daughters.

Outside her daughters’ room, she came upon her direwolf, sleeping against the stone wall. Ready to find her own chambers, Daenerys took a brief moment to scratch Snow’s head. When she moved on from her direwolf, she made her way down the corridor. The cold stone floor was beginning to get to her as she walked barefoot back to the King’s chambers.

Ser Arthur did not say a word, standing guard silently at the door to her chambers with Ghost. Inside, she found all the candles blown out and nothing but darkness. Luckily for her, she knew the way across the solar and to the bedchamber. She could hear Jon, Rhaenys, and Visenya speaking before she pushed the door open to join them.

As soon as she passed through the doorway, she discarded her shift to join them in bed. Climbing onto the bed, Daenerys slithered under the furs at Jon, resting on top of Jon’s muscled body. His warmth was all she needed. The cold stone floors chilling her feet and the cool castle air shivering her bare arms was now long forgotten. Sharing a bed with the love of her life, with Rhaenys and Visenya, always stoked the fire inside her. _We are the blood of the dragon._

“Could they not go to sleep?” Jon asked, kissing her hair as she rested on his chest.

“Naerys was asleep the moment she laid on the bed. Arya and Visenya were asleep soon after,” she replied. _Or Arya is up to no good and played the sleeping princess. I can see it now._

“We were just discussing some of the bolder lords asking for seats at the Small Council,” Rhaenys said, as she noticed her move her leg gently up and down Jon’s.

“We still have not discussed who will fill the empty seats,” Daenerys replied, thinking on the potential lords they could choose. _We still need a Master of Coin, Master of Laws, and a Grand Maester._

“And we still need to find men to join the Kingsguard,” Visenya added, resting her head against Jon’s left shoulder.

“We will worry about finding new Kingsguard after we have taken King’s Landing,” Jon said, sounding tired from their first day home, on Dragonstone. Throughout the feast, she kept an eye on him and recognized how much he wanted to be somewhere else. _He always disliked feasts and he always hated the attention._

As Daenerys closed her eyes and began to let her body relax, she felt Jon’s warm hands roam her back, down to her ass while she felt his cock harden. _While I am tempted, I need some rest if I am to truly make love to him._ “In the morning,” she whispered against his chest as she fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

 

 

**Jon Targaryen**

The courtyard of Dragonstone was as dark and silent as the crypts of Winterfell, with only two braziers lit near the gate. Varys’ little birds in King’s Landing had sent a raven, warning their spymaster of Euron Greyjoy’s departure. The stories of the King of the Iron Islands had spread from port to port over the past fifteen years. While the stories varied, the one constant was Euron’s madness. Jon paid them no mind.

Jon did not think Euron Greyjoy was actually mad. He would respect the Ironborn’s abilities at sea and not underestimate the man. _Euron is a ruthless reaver and raper, without honor. He wants to sit the Iron Throne and will do anything to get it, no matter how evil._

As he approached the gate, guarded by six of his men clad in their black armor, Jon noticed Ghost running up to his side. His direwolf always stood out in the dark with his white fur. Nodding to the guards making way for him to pass, Jon scratched his direwolf behind his ears. “You will have to stay here boy,” he whispered to his loyal wolf as he turned left, marching toward the dragons.

The dragons had taken to an area near a cliffside hundreds of feet from the castle. They usually lingered around a small pool of water even though he never saw the dragons drink from it. He wondered if they stuck close to the area because the direwolves also ventured the area.

“You should listen to that damn wolf,” Ser Arthur said, shadowing his right as they crossed the uneven ground toward the dragons. Arthur never voiced his disagreements in front of others, but Jon was always grateful that his Kingsguard would let him know when he thought he was wrong.

“And what would you have me do? Sacrifice hundreds of ships when I can end the Ironborn threat in one battle,” he replied, looking back to see his wives following close behind while speaking amongst themselves.

“Yes, you are a King, not a damned soldier,” Arthur answered.

“You are sounding like Davos. I have had to listen to him go on for hours, trying to stop us from going. I did not let others fight my battles in Essos and I will not start now in Westeros,” he said as Arthur began to shake his head. “Do not worry yourself, I will be in the air with Vermithrex.”

“Fly fast and do not linger. They may have scorpions on their ships,” Arthur advised. “And stay in the air. You do not need blood on that blade.”

At the end of their short walk, Jon turned to Ser Arthur as his wives continued on toward the awaiting dragons. “Arthur, if I fall..,” he began to speak, thinking of his wives and children.

“I will see you when you return, my King,” Arthur stopped him. Jon wanted to continue, but decided not to argue with his most trusted guard and turned to find his dragon.

Hearing Vermithrex’s familiar roar, Jon began to cross the distance to his grey-scaled dragon until he saw his Queens had gathered in front of Drogon with Daenerys petting his snout. While they did not wear their revealing Essosi dresses due to the cooler weather on Dragonstone, he could not stop himself from admiring their beauty. _They are still the greatest sight I have ever seen, covered up in these dresses._

“How should we attack his fleet?” Rhaenys asked after she seemed to hear his approaching footsteps across the wet morning grass.

“I will attack Euron’s ship,” he replied. _It should be hard to miss._ “Daenerys, attack their port flank. Visenya, attack their starboard flank. Rhaenys, destroy their rear and cut off any escape. We should not pass more than twice.”

“And what if we are too late?” Visenya asked.

“We stick to our plan. If they are mixed in with our allies, attack where the Greyjoys are grouped together,” he replied. Jon looked each of them in the eyes as they shook their heads in agreement, before pulling each in for a kiss. _I will never take them for granted. Anything can happen in this battle, even with our dragons._

Leaving them to climb their own mounts, Jon wandered over the Vermithrex who stood near the edge of the cliff overlooking Blackwater Bay beside Stormfyre. His black-grey scaled dragon apparently sensed they were ready to fly off to fight a battle. Stormfyre pushed off the edge of the cliff with her strong legs, letting her wings spread and keep her flying over the sea below.

Vermithrex let out a small growl as Jon climbed the dragon’s shoulder and adjusted his position along his dragon’s back, preparing for flight. Waiting for his Queens to take to the sky, he finally whispered as Rhaenys took off with Myrax, “Sovegon.”

Jon was used to the feeling of lifting off the ground, but the short dive off the cliff before climbing back into the sky was an unsettling feeling. Feeling the rush of the morning air beating across his face, Jon directed his dragon to the southwest, toward the eastern edge of Driftmark. They would need to fly past the island held by their most loyal bannermen before reaching the Gullet.

Sunrise was nearly an hour away as they entered the Gullet and he hoped they could attack Euron Greyjoy’s fleet with the rising sun at their backs. If all went to plan, Euron Greyjoy would fall in the first attack and his fleet would be trapped, leaving Yara Greyjoy to finish off what remained of his fleet. _And if the winds are kind to the Redwyne fleet, they will get the chance to prove themselves._

Any hope they had for an easy victory was crushed as he spotted flickering lights across the sea, some twenty miles south of Driftmark by his guess. There was no other explanation or possibility. _We are late._ Euron had reached their allies before they had. Mistakenly, they underestimated the speed with which his fleet of longships and war galleys could sail to the Gullet.

Sensing his urgency, Vermithrex beat his wings against the morning air faster than he had the entire flight from Dragonstone and carried Jon directly toward the center of the battle ahead. As they closed in on the chaos, Jon spotted dozens of capsized ships and even more set ablaze. Men were fighting on the decks of ships. Others were left, fighting to stay afloat in the water. It was difficult to tell friend from foe below in the center of the battle.

If it had not been for the flaming sails on countless longships, Jon would have struggled to find Euron Greyjoy’s ship. Luckily, the fires provided enough light on the dark sea, allowing him to spot the great sails that adorned the _Silence._ _Gods only know what the reasoning is behind that name._

During the descent toward the Ironborn, Jon caught a glimpse of Rhaenys and her two other dragons laying down three paths of dragonfire along the edge of Euron’s fleet. Knowing he had to focus on his own task at hand, Jon concentrated on the ship below. “Dracarys!” he screamed, just as his dragon flew close to fifty feet above the deck of Euron Greyjoy’s ship.

It was only after Vermithrex unleashed his powerful flame and capsized the once great war galley that Jon realized the man he intended to kill was not aboard. There were only a few men standing on the deck, caught unawares by the attack from the sky. Knowing he could not have gone far, Jon circled the area, searching the vessels below.

The fighting was intense and a disorganized chaos that suited everything people said of the Ironborn. It was the damaged longship near the bow of Euron’s now sinking ship where Jon saw who he thought was Euron Greyjoy. In that moment, he realized Euron was fighting aboard Yara Greyjoy’s ship.

Seeing corpses strewn across the deck of the ship with only a few standing against their foe, Jon considered burning the ship before deciding against it. _I will not burn those who have bent the knee and fight at our side._ Deciding not to waste the opportunity, Jon ordered Vermithrex to land at the aft of the ship. Making sure to keep the landing brief due to his dragon’s immense weight, Jon leapt off Vermithrex onto the bloodied wooden deck of the longship.

Hitting the deck hard, Jon fell to his knees. Finding his feet, he unsheathed Blackfyre to defend against a coming blow from a screaming man running his way. The man was no match, for Jon parried the coming blow and swept the man’s feet out from under him and drove his Valyrian steel into the Ironborn’s chest.

Moving on from his first attacker, Jon cut down three more men as he ran down the steps toward the center of the longship. There, he found Euron fighting Yara Greyjoy. His new ally was losing ground, getting backed into a corner near the port side railing. Jon ran to catch Euron by surprise just as Yara fell to the ground after having her sword knocked from her grip.

His surprise attack failed when the King of the Iron Islands turned to face him after knocking Yara unconscious, as if expecting his men’s failure. “You are late to the battle Dragon King. I was expecting you. You chose the wrong allies. A woman and the cockless,” Euron said, walking toward him with his sword pointed in his direction.

“Aye, you are right. I should have chosen you for an ally. The man who kills his own brother and starts wars he cannot finish. How many of your kin died so you could have your glory and burn the fleet at Lannisport?” he asked, stepping closer to Euron. _Perhaps he is mad. All I see in those eyes are bloodthirst and madness._

Euron laughed before answering, “The place was getting crowded. As I told Jaime Lannister, it was a pleasure watching your father and his Kingsguard cut them down. After I kill you, I will take each of your Queens. How do they like it? Rough and on their knees? A finger in the bum?” _I have had enough of his talking._

Not honoring the filth with an answer, Jon lunged forward at Euron with Blackfyre coming down toward his opponent’s right shoulder. Jon had already planned out his attack in his mind and knew the first blow would fail. After the first parry, Jon kept up his attack, striking high with his first six blows before moving on to a mix of side strikes and swipes at Euron’s face. Back and forth, he gained ground and then lost it, masking his endurance with a strained face and tired breaths.

Euron seemed to fall for the bait when Jon saw the look in his eye of a man who expected to win. He could not blame him if he expected a King who could only win his battles atop a beast breathing flames in the sky. Euron pushed his believed advantage and Jon allowed himself to be backed into a corner at the ship’s starboard side. _This will work._

Amidst the chaos around them, with ships burning close-by and men still fighting, Jon caught sight of Theon running in their direction. _If the coward thinks to betray me as he did Robb, I will end him and the Greyjoy line._ It was then Jon began to hold his ground and stop his backpedaling with two strikes toward Euron’s left.

As Euron built up his strength for another blow, Jon rushed in with all his speed, bringing down Blackfyre to strike at his foe’s head. Slow to defend, Euron blocked Jon’s Valyrian steel blade. As planned, the force of his blow pushed Euron back into Theon who cut Euron’s sword arm in half.

Wanting to avoid listening to him speak again, Jon removed his head in one swift swing with Blackfyre soaked in blood. Jon stared down at the lifeless body of the King of the Iron Islands. _They should stick to reaving and raping. They will never have the strength to fight a real war. Not even at sea._

“Jon,” he heard Theon say. When he looked up, the man he once knew as a boy in Winterfell nodded toward the scene behind him. Jon turned to see the Redwyne fleet approaching on the horizon with the sun beginning to rise.

“Get your sister off this ship and pray the Redwynes do not take you for Euron’s men,” he ordered Theon. Acknowledging his command, Theon ran back to retrieve his unconscious sister while Jon looked to the sky for his dragon.

Moments later, he spotted Vermithrex diving toward his position. Nearly one hundred feet above, his dragon spread his wings to stop his descent and land at the aft of the ship. Not wanting to remain on the ship any longer with the ensuing fighting around them, Jon ran to Vermithrex and quickly climbed his back. Without even yelling a command, his dragon took flight and carried him to the safety of the sky.

When they first reached the battle, it was hard to identify friend from foe. It was even difficult to spot all of the ships sailing across the sea. The rising sun to the east now presented a clear picture of the battle below. Jon watched as he circled the battle and found that his Queens had burned every ship at the edge of the fighting. There was nowhere for their enemy to flee and escape.

Jon saw some of Euron’s captains trying to flee as the burning, capsized ships on the outer edges began to sink below the surface. Whatever escape they planned was thwarted by the Redwyne fleet, sailing hard and fast toward the helpless Greyjoy fleet. The Redwynes split their fleet into two, circling around Yara’s weakened fleet to the larger, yet trapped fleet of Euron Greyjoy.

Flying circles over the battle, Jon watched on as some of the Ironborn waved their arms, wanting to surrender. He was not going to allow their surrender as he watched Sonar and Stormfyre burn several of their ships before flying beside him. The dragons had done their part as he watched the Redwynes destroy what remained of the defeated fleet with his Queens flying at his side.

 

 

**Robb Stark**

The Riverlands were not as he remembered. Years ago, when he had marched south with an army and fought his way from Whispering Wood through the Riverlands to the Crag, Robb grew accustomed to the green lands. Autumn was gone and winter was now here. The snows disappeared once they passed through the Neck, but the trees were beginning to lose their leaves. As they marched down the Kingsroad, he wondered if the woods outside his lady wife’s home were still full of color.

During the journey from Winterfell, Robb had plenty of time to think of how they would reach his sisters in time and march their armies on King’s Landing. There were plenty of loyal keeps between Moat Cailin and the Blackwater Rush. Before he could get very far south with his army of Northmen and Free Folk, Robb knew they would have to eliminate the last remaining Lannister ally in the Riverlands. There was no way of getting around it. They would have to defeat House Frey and take the Twins, otherwise risking leaving a foe untouched to attack their rear.

The scouts that rode ahead to keep an eye on the Twins before the army arrived came back to him with strange reports. The two castles mirroring each other on either side of the Green Fork were empty and abandoned. His men saw no one leave or enter the strongholds belonging to House Frey. They did not even see men guarding the gates or the parapets. It was as if Walder Frey had disappeared and had been blown away with the wind.

Even stranger than the scouting reports was what he and his lords found at the Twins. No blood was spilled entering Lord Walder Frey’s keep. Robb had prepared for a battle and instead found a nearly abandoned castle. The only people who remained in the castle were several men at arms still looting the castle of its valuables and several maids who locked themselves in their chambers. The looters were put to the sword while the women were questioned. Four of them promised they did not see what happened while the fifth eventually revealed herself to be Walder Frey’s latest wife.

Questioning Lady Frey proved difficult. The woman stumbled over the few words she spoke and had a look of fear. Robb tried to make out what she said, but only heard the words of a mad woman. She spoke of a woman with two faces and winter coming for House Frey. There were still some rotting corpses within the great hall, but most had been removed. It became apparent Lord Walder and his entire House had been poisoned. None survived and most of the dead were thrown into the river before their arrival.

Robb wished he could have been there to see Walder Frey and his sons draw their last breath. He did not pray for the murder of his daughters and granddaughters, but he was not going to lose sleep over the end of House Frey. When he left the North, he knew it was not only House Lannister he intended on destroying.

It was not until they searched the western castle that Robb found his uncle Edmure barricaded in a small bedchamber with Lady Roslin and their son, who could not have been much older than two years of age. Edmure did not look or act as how he remembered him. His uncle looked worn and defeated with his unkept beard and long hair. _Years spent as Walder Frey’s prisoner will do that to a man. I should not have marched North to Winterfell without freeing him._

Robb expected an enraged Edmure and prepared for his scorn. He did not find it. Instead, his uncle kept quiet and seemed grateful to finally be freed from his chains in the dungeons of the Twins. Robb ordered a contingent of his men to escort Edmure, his wife, and his son back to Riverrun while he continued south. _I am not going to drag him into a war after just being freed from imprisonment._

The current stretch of the Kingsroad he now found himself riding along was covered on either side by heavy forest, with no fields, hills, rivers, or streams within sight. It was a relief to know they were only miles from the Crossroads. His scouts had encountered a group of Vale knights sitting along the road, waiting for his army to approach. Lord Harrold Arryn and his sister were waiting for him with their army at the Inn at the Crossroads.

_I have not seen Sansa in years. The last time I saw her, she was just a girl. Now she is married to a great lord and a woman grown. What does she look like? Is she still the same Sansa I remember? No, likely not. I am different. We are all different. Father died and everything changed._

“My Lord, look!” he heard his squire say as the Manderly boy pointed to the road ahead. While Robb tried to look around the fifty riders that rode ahead of him, he heard Grey Wind howl next to him. His direwolf kept pace with his destrier as they began to ride into a clearing where the woods surrounding the Kingsroad gave room for an army to make camp.

Moments after his squire caught his attention, he spotted the banners of several Vale Houses. He could see the sigils of Houses Waynwood, Shett, Belmore, Hunter, Melcolm, Royce, Redfort, Tollett, and finally Arryn. As they rode through the camp, all eyes fell upon his direwolf. The direwolves seemed to have the same effect on any who had never seen one before.

The further they made their way along the road and through the encamped army of the Vale, the more Robb’s confidence swelled. The knights of the Vale were well provisioned with plenty of horses, castle-forged steel, quality armor, and strong men ready to fight. Because of his aunt Lysa, the Vale was untouched by the war with House Lannister. It hurt their cause years ago, but Robb was glad to find one benefit from their absence.

After passing the actual Crossroads and nearly ten thousand men camped along the road, Robb spotted what must be the Inn at the Crossroads. The inn stood a few hundred feet off the Kingsroad near the edge of the woods. It was an unremarkable stone structure with a worn, shingled roof. Smoke billowed out of its chimneys while soldiers from the Vale moved in and out with ale and food in hand.

It was only when he dismounted his black destrier and handed the reins to his squire to tie off that he found who he had been looking for. Behind the dozen armored men with the colors of House Arryn, Robb found his sister walking beside her lord husband. Sansa looked nothing like he remembered. _She was just a girl, obsessed with her dresses and talking about princes and knights with Jeyne Poole. Now she is the Lady of the Vale._

He could not hold back his smile when Sansa’s eyes finally locked with his own. As he began to step across the muddy ground between them, Grey Wind ran ahead of him toward Sansa. The closer his direwolf got, he feared his companion would tackle her to the ground and ruin her grey-blue dress that showed her new House colors while still displaying the colors of the House she was born to. Robb’s worry was unwarranted when he saw Grey Wind stop in his tracks just in front of his sister to sniff her dress before attempting to lick her face.

Sansa’s smile and laughter from the attentions of his direwolf felt like something good. For years, he stressed over her safety and well-being with the Lannisters. He always feared how she would be mistreated and punished under Joffrey’s rule. Her disappearance after the Purple Wedding only raised his concerns. _I thought she was dead. Killed by the Lannisters in retaliation or killed by those who plotted to murder Joffrey._ It was only after he received a raven from the Eyrie and Sansa herself that he learned of her whereabouts.

“Robb,” she said, finally breaking free of Grey Wind with a warming smile on her face. He knew his sister was alive, but it was finally a truth now that he laid eyes upon her. Rooted where he stood, he fumbled over his own words to say anything before Sansa took the final step forward to wrap her arms tightly around him.

“Sansa. I am so sorry I was not there. I should have been there. I should have…,” he apologized while holding her tight with a small fear that letting her go would mean losing her again to their enemies.

“Stop. That is in the past. What matters now is we are here,” she said before finally backing away from his embrace. “Robb, this is my husband, Lord Harrold of House Arryn.”

“My Lord,” Robb said, nodding to his sister’s husband. It looked to him like his sister got her wish. She always wanted to marry a southern lord in shining armor and now she was the wife of the Lord of the Vale. While his good-brother wore shining armor that was common amongst the southern lords and knights, Robb could tell from the look on Harrold’s face, that he was not a tourney knight. From his time fighting in the Riverlands, he learned to quickly identify the men who knew how to fight in a real battle from the ones who should have stuck to the tourney grounds. “Thank you for protecting my sister. House Stark will be forever grateful and you will always have a place at my hearth in Winterfell.”

“Thank you, Lord Stark. I am grateful to call Lady Sansa my wife. Your family will always have a place at my hearth in the Eyrie,” Harrold Arryn responded. “I must admit, we had not expected you for several more days.”

“Aye, there was no battle at the Twins. Walder Frey and his entire House are gone,” Robb replied, shifting to look at his sister who noticeably skipped a breath.

“What?” Sansa asked with a look of shock. _I will not bother her with what Lady Frey claimed to see._

“Poisoned, all of them. Only a few maids and Walder Frey’s wife lived,” he added, noticing the disappointment on her face. From their ravens, he knew Sansa learned of the planned betrayal by House Frey and he could see she wanted revenge. It was clear to anyone who knew her that she was angry to have their revenge stolen from them. “Sansa, we found Uncle Edmure. He is travelling to Riverrun as we speak.”

“That is good news. I expected the Freys to murder him,” Sansa replied.

“The Blackfish is gathering an army at Castle Darry. He sent a rider this morning letting us know he had twenty-two thousand men ready to join us on the march to King’s Landing. He expects another three thousand men to join on the morrow,” Harrold Arryn said, shifting the focus to the south.

“Good, we will outnumber the Westerlands and their sellswords. Is there any word from Dragonstone?” Robb asked. _We could use the dragons for the siege of King’s Landing._

“The Targaryen and Velaryon fleets are blockading the Blackwater. I expect they will attack Euron Greyjoy’s fleet before sailing on King’s Landing. Stannis Baratheon plans to march on the city from the south. It is said he has twenty thousand men camped at Storm’s End,” Harrold replied.

“Did our King say where his armies would land?” Robb asked. _Likely not. I know Jon and he would not trust such information with a raven. It will not remain a secret for long. You cannot hide a Dothraki horde for long._

“We have not received a raven from Dragonstone since we left the Eyrie. A rider may bring us a message from Jon, but I doubt it,” his sister said. “We should not wait for Jon. We need to attack Cersei now before she can plot to murder each of us. I know her. Everyone who has ever stood in her way are all dead.”

“Not everyone. We are still here,” he said, thinking of any possible scenario Cersei Lannister could find to defeat them.

“We are,” Sansa said in a calm manner. _She has changed. Under her calm façade, I can see her doing plotting of her own._ “How are Margaery and my nephews?”

“Healthy and well. Brynden is still just a babe. Ned is beginning to cause us problems. He likes to explore the keep and lose us in the godswood,” he said, thinking of the family he left behind in Winterfell.

“And Mother and Rickon?”

“You know our mother. She does not let her grandsons out of her sight. I sometimes worry Margaery will lose her composure and send her away,” he half-jested. His mother and wife now got along, but it did not always mean everything went smoothly between the two. “Rickon wanted to come, but I reminded him there must always be a Stark in Winterfell. Is there any word from the Reach?”

“Our sister is with the army marching north,” Sansa answered.

“We received a raven from Willas Tyrell. His army is near Longtable and he has nearly sixty thousand men with him,” Harrold added.

“I never asked, how did you find out Allyria is our sister?” Sansa asked.

“Jon and Visenya told me. I wish we knew when she visited Winterfell. She was right there, our blood, and we did not know it,” he said, trying to remember his sister’s face. When he first met her, all those years ago, he thought Allyria to be a great beauty. His memories of her always made him relieved that he never acted on his attraction. He would never look at her that way again now that he knew the truth.

“When they killed King Rhaegar and Aegon, I feared they killed her. I was so happy when I heard she escaped with Visenya and Aunt Lyanna,” Sansa said in a voice tinged with deep sadness. “I wish Ar…”

Sansa was cut off by the howl of Grey Wind. His direwolf stood just feet away, howling at the sky before running back toward the Kingsroad. His army was still marching down the road, planning to camp in the fields south of the inn. His eyes followed his running direwolf until he saw a sight he could hardly believe.

Surrounded by a group of his soldiers, a girl that looked like Arya approached with two fully-grown direwolves, followed by ten or more smaller wolves. _Arya? It has to be her! The direwolves must be Nymeria and Lady._ Robb struggled to reconcile what his eyes were seeing. Arya was still small and wild, but looked nothing like the sister he knew. It was something about her demeanor and how she walked.

Robb failed to close the distance between himself and Arya before Sansa cut in front of him to pull Arya in for a hug. Unable to hold back, he pulled both of his sisters into his arms, trying to figure out how this was possible. _Where has she been? Why did she not come home? What has she seen? What has she had to do to stay alive?_

“Where have you been? Everyone thought you were dead,” he said. He still clung to the hope that she was alive. Edric Dayne had seen her in the Riverlands and Robb knew she would make it. _If she could make it out of King’s Landing, evading the Lannisters, she could survive on her own._

“Braavos,” was all Arya said with an unreadable face. _I will ask later._

“Thank you for finding Lady,” Sansa said, petting her direwolf she never expected to see again. “How did you find her?”

“I didn’t. They found me,” Arya answered.

“Where?” he asked, wondering where the direwolves had been all this time.

“A few miles south of Darry on the Kingsroad,” Arya said, running a hand through Nymeria’s fur.

“What were you doing there?” Sansa asked with a concerned look.

“I was headed to King’s Landing until I heard you both were bringing your armies south,” Arya said, looking back and forth between himself and Sansa.

“Why would you go there?” he asked.

“Cersei is there. She has always been on my list,” Arya replied. _List? What list?_

“Let’s take this inside. Warrick, make sure none of the men do anything foolish to provoke the wolves,” he suggested before ordering his squire to look out for the wolves.

After settling into a private room within the Inn at the Crossroads with just his sisters and Harrold Arryn, he looked to Arya for answers. He had so many questions for her. _Will she give us all the answers?_

“How did you make it out of King’s Landing?” Sansa asked.

“Meryn Trant came to get me with the Lannister soldiers. Syrio Forel fought them off so I could escape. I hid in the catacombs and secret passages for a few days until I wandered the streets. Yoren saved me after they killed Father. He cut my hair and took me with a group headed north to Castle Black. Gendry Baratheon joined us. Our group was attacked one night and we were taken prisoner at Harrenhal. I escaped nearly a year after the war begun. The Brotherhood Without Banners held me and Gendry until I escaped and the Hound took me. He was bringing me to you at the Twins until we saw the battle. We thought you were dead,” Arya said.

“The Freys are dead,” he said.

“I know, I killed them,” Arya responded without emotion. “They were on my list.”

“How?” Sansa asked with a skeptical look.

“After the battle at the Twins, the Hound took me to the Eyrie. Aunt Lysa died before we could get there. After, he died and I decided to make my own way. I sailed to Braavos and trained with the Faceless Men. I wanted to be able to get revenge for Father. I thought I would find it there. I was wrong. I killed them all when they tried to have Jon and Visenya killed. I took a ship to Maidenpool and headed to the Twins. You know the rest,” Arya said. _There is so much she is not saying. Her words are not enough to tell her story._

“You are still very strange, but I am glad you are here. When Allyria sees you, I think her heart will stop,” Sansa jested, sitting across from Arya with a lit hearth between the two.

“Allyria? She is here?” Arya asked with unmistaken enthusiasm.

“No, but we will see her soon. We will join the Tyrell army before marching on King’s Landing,” Robb told her, resting his hand over hers on the arm of her chair.

“I don’t understand, what is Allyria doing with the Tyrells?”

“She is Lady Allyria Tyrell now. Our sister married Lord Willas and they have a son, named Arthur,” Sansa told Arya, who brimmed with happiness.

“I have two sons as well. I am not sure if you heard,” Robb said.

“I did not know. What are their names?” Arya asked with a mix of sadness and joy.

“My eldest is Eddard, but we call him Ned, after Father. Our second is Brynden. He is just a small babe, but they grow quicker than you think,” he told his sister, imagining what Margaery and his children were doing at this moment.

“I cannot wait to see them,” Arya replied.

“I can have some of my men escort you to Winterfell,” he suggested, hoping she would take the bait.

“You are mad if you think I am leaving you and Sansa to fight Cersei on your own,” Arya responded, glaring at him with eyes that could kill. Robb still tried to comprehend how Arya had been turned into a killer. _This should never have been her life. She should have remained in Winterfell, free to ride her horses through the Wolfswood and practice with her Needle. Many things should not have been._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will have a battle and reunions. POVs from Allyria, Robb, Jon, & Visenya. Tell me what you think and leave any questions in the comments.


	36. Battle of Blackwater Rush

**Allyria Tyrell**

Winter had come, but the Reach was still nothing like the North. It was still pleasantly cool in the Reach, but Allyria was waiting for the cold winds to roll in and blanket the green fields of the south with snow. She could still remember the cold weather when she visited Winterfell in the summer and thought it was still colder than it is now.

Despite the mild conditions, Allyria kept her sleeping son bundled in furs in her arms. Sitting in her tent, she could see their supper being cooked over the small fire. Through the open tent flap, she watched her husband’s men skin the rabbits and set them over the fire. The smells of cooked rabbits, venison, boar, and other meats passed through the camp with the wind. _One would be forgiven if they forgot there was a war going on and they enjoyed this moment. The camp reminds me of the tourney grounds outside of King’s Landing, when times were good. When a Targaryen sat the Iron Throne._

Her husband’s army had been encamped along the southern bank of the Blackwater Rush for the past eight days and she could tell Willas was becoming restless. He did not want them staying in one place for too long, giving the Lannister’s a chance to mount an attack. Allyria was not as concerned, considering they had scouts who would warn of any army approaching from the east or west.

As she stared at the rabbit cooking over the dancing flames, Allyria felt relieved they were not going to have fish from the river for supper again. From where she sat, she could see the river past the tents on the edge of their encampment along the shore. _If we were still in Essos and there were not seventy thousand men with us, I would go for a swim._

“What are you smirking at?” her mother spoke up, sitting next to her. The sound of her mother’s voice seemed to wake Winter, who laid on the ground at her feet. She felt her direwolf begin to stir and tilted her head to find her loyal companion staring back up at her with her intimidating eyes.

“Nothing, just remembering what it was like in Essos,” she said, remembering one particular stream she and Rhaenys found to bathe in along the road from Astapor to Yunkai.

“You wish to return?” her mother asked incredulously.

“Of course not!” she replied, kissing her sleeping son’s brow. “But I cannot deny, the weather is more forgiving.”

“You say that because winter is here. If it was spring or autumn, you would not be thinking of Essos. You forget how unpleasant the heat could be in Meereen,” her mother reminded her. _She is not wrong. At least the waters were warm enough to not freeze while trying to cool off._ “I am beginning to think Olenna had the right of it, staying at Highgarden. I am tired of being one of the only ladies in the entire camp. If I see one more knight or soldier staring at me like one of their whores, I am going to send Winter after them.”

“We should find ourselves an army of Unsullied,” Allyria jested before remembering the Unsullied were still interested in women. Some even paid whores for their time. _And Grey Worm and Missandei are together. They would be more respectful than the men of Westeros._ While unpleasant, Allyria thought her mother should find something good about the looks men threw her way. _She is still one of the most beautiful ladies in all the Seven Kingdoms. She cannot complain about that._

“We could start by gelding a good number of your Lord husband’s knights,” her mother replied, smiling as she sipped on a glass of Arbor gold.

“If I have sit through any more of their arguments, I may ask Willas to do just that,” she added, thinking on the past several days. Each day brought a new debate regarding their planned siege of King’s Landing. The younger lords and knights who had never truly known war thought they could conquer the world while the elder lords tried to lean on their experience as a reason to dismiss her husband’s plans. Lord Randyll Tarly was the worst of them. _He is a loyal bannerman, but I see the look in his eyes when Willas speaks. He mistakes Willas for his father. If Lord Tarly knew me, then he would know I am not one to wed an oaf._

“Lord Tarly again?” her mother questioned. Allyria nodded to confirm before her mother started again, “Well, you will just have to tolerate his presence. He is rather dull, but he is quite good at killing and leading men into battle. He defeated Robert Baratheon after all.” _Before Robert became a drunk, whoring himself to an early grave. No, that isn’t right. Before he lost his strength._

“Was Father as great of a warrior as they said he was?” she asked. Allyria had never questioned her assumptions regarding her father before. Even before she discovered Lord Eddard Stark was her father, she had heard stories of his bravery and accomplishments in the early battles of the Rebellion Against the Mad King. _Thank the gods Rhaegar sought out Father and won over the rebels to overthrow Aerys._

“Better. I saw him spar with the men at Harrenhal before we met and Arthur spoke of his abilities. I have never known your uncle to be wrong regarding matters of combat,” her mother said. The smile on her mother’s face seemed to be a sad one. She always looked that way whenever she spoke of her father. _I always feel that way when I remember the little time we had. Happy for what we shared while sad for time stolen from us._

While dwelling on her precious memories of her father, Allyria heard the hooves of countless horses thundering through the camp toward their tent until finally hearing the riders halt just feet away. The riders were unseen until she saw Willas walk into view and enter their tent, wearing his armor, prepared for a battle should one come to them.

“What is it?” she asked, knowing the look on his face. _He has something to tell me. It isn’t bad, I think._

“Our men have spotted your brother’s army and he is not alone. The Riverlands and the Vale are with him. They are only five miles away,” Willas said. _I hope Sansa is with him._

“Then we shall greet him when he arrives,” she said, standing from her chair with her son waking in her arms, doing his best to stay asleep.

“Here, let me take him,” her mother said with open arms, reaching for Arthur. She obliged and handed her son to her mother knowing he still needed his rest. She kissed her son before turning on her heels to join Willas standing at the entrance of their tent.

Walking at Willas’ side toward the waiting horses, Allyria began to slightly lean into his side, wanting to take him back to their own tent to make love. It had been several days since they had sought to each other’s needs and she was beginning to go mad without having him inside her. _He is wearing himself thin, marching around this camp, overseeing every little thing._

“When night falls, I expect to see you in our tent, ready to retire for the evening. I do not want to hear about seeing to new defenses or dealing with this lord or that lord. I need you all to myself this night and you need me,” she said in a hushed tone, earning a cheerful look from her Lord husband.

“I like the sound of that. I promise, the lords of the Reach will have to make due without me tonight,” he said as they reached their horses and climbed atop their saddles.

 

They had been standing beside their horses on the western edge of their camp for some time until Allyria finally spotted riders at the bend in the road that ran parallel to a line of trees along the Blackwater Rush. At the head of the approaching army, she recognized northmen riding atop great destriers, carrying banners with the sigil of House Stark. After them came men from the Riverlands carrying the banners of House Tully next to knights of the Vale bearing the sigil of House Arryn.

She waited and waited until the laid eyes upon a grey direwolf following the first hundred men down the road. _Robb’s direwolf! Its Grey Wind._ Right behind the direwolf was her brother, Robb, wearing a black furred cloak over his armor atop his black horse. The sight reminded her of her father in Winterfell many years ago.

Her spirits were lifted even higher when she saw Sansa riding a white mare next to Lord Harrold Arryn, her husband. Sansa looked to be a far more serious person, now that she was a woman grown, but Allyria was glad to see her sister smile once they saw each other. _She truly has become a beauty. I hope her husband makes her happy and she did not sacrifice herself to win an alliance for the North._

While their armies continued to march toward the camp without them, Robb, Sansa, Harrold Arryn, and some of their men broke off the road to join them. Just as Sansa’s feet hit the ground, out of her saddle, Allyria wrapped her arms around her little sister. Even though they had written to each other via raven scroll, nothing could replace seeing her sister alive, in the flesh. _It has been years. I feared the day would never come, that she would fall victim to Joffrey’s cruelty and madness._

“I’ve missed you, Sansa” she whispered, afraid to let go of her sister who was now barely taller than she was.

“I’ve missed you too, sister,” Sansa replied before Allyria began to ease her hold on Sansa. Stepping back, she turned to her brother and she found her feet carrying her to where he stood.

Robb pulled her in for a hug, confirming to her that he accepted her as a sister, just like Sansa and Arya. It meant everything to her. Aegon and Jon were the closest thing she had to brothers as a child. Having a brother’s love now meant the world to her. She did not want to let him go and she sensed he felt the same.

Finally letting go, she looked in his eyes, holding his arms. “I don’t know what to say,” she said, honestly at a loss for words.

“Aye. I began to wonder if I would ever see my sister again,” Robb replied, causing a tear to slip from her eye. She let out a small laugh while quickly wiping the tear finding its way down her cheek. “I should also like to see my nephew someday. I pray he is doing well.”

“See for yourself. He is with my mother in my tent in the middle of our camp,” she said, briefly looking back toward the vast expanse of the Tyrell army. The tents spanned nearly as far as the eye could see. “How are your sons? Margaery keeps us well informed in her letters, but I wanted to hear it from you, in person.”

“They are well. Ned grows bigger everyday and likes to do things on his own. Brynden is still just a babe, but I think he will grow to be a strong man one day,” her brother said, bristling with pride in his two young sons.

“I know he will. If the future permits, I hope my sons can foster with you at Winterfell. They should learn about their northern heritage and what it means to live in the North. I do not want my sons to be raised as southern knights who know nothing but tourneys and banquet,” she said in a hushed tone, not wanting to offend some of the men nearby, including Willas. From the periphery of her vision, she could see Willas shaking his head, having heard what she told Robb. “Is Rickon still in Winterfell?”

“There must always be a Stark in Winterfell,” her brother said after shaking his head to confirm her disappointment. She understood why he was left behind, but it did not stop her from wishing to see him. She could not even recall his face nor ever speaking with him when she visited Winterfell. _He was just a small boy then._

“Allyria,” she heard a familiar voice from where Sansa stood to her right. Allyria shifted her eyes from Robb toward the voice she could not put a name to. There, standing next to Sansa, was Arya. Her little sister looked just how she imagined she would, all these years later. Her sword gifted to her by Jon was still sheathed at her side. Arya wore riding breeches and a travelling cloak that was not made in the style most ladies of Westeros would adorn themselves with.

“Arya?” she almost stumbled over her sister’s name as her feet carried her toward the family she prayed she would see again. Allyria did not bother to wipe away the tears that were now trailing down her cheeks before she snatched Arya up within her arms. Arya was still very short in stature but felt strong for her size as she held Allyria with even more strength than herself. “How? Where have you been?”

“It’s a long story. I imagine yours is too. I heard about you and our cousins in Essos. I thought about finding you several times, but always stayed where I was. It was a mistake,” Arya said as Allyria gave Arya’s arm a reassuring squeeze.

“All that matters is you are here now,” she replied, unable to miss the two direwolves with a pack of smaller wolves approaching behind her sisters. “And you found Nymeria and Lady. You never stop surprising me.”

“I did nothing. They found me along the Kingsroad,” Arya replied, looking back at the wolves. “What are the dragons like? I heard tales of them in Braavos, that they destroyed the armies of Volantis and burned entire cities.”

“They did not burn entire cities. You know our cousins better than that. As for what the dragons are like, you will see for yourself when we reach King’s Landing. They grow larger every year. I am sure they are far larger than last I saw them,” Allyria said, seeing the wonder fill her sister’s eyes. Arya loved to look at the dragon skulls below the Red Keep and Allyria knew Queen Visenya Targaryen was a hero of hers. “I am sure if you ask Visenya, she will take you with her on Silverclaw. I have flown on Rhaenys’ dragon, Myrax. I know you will love it.”

“You’ve flown on a dragon?” Arya asked with a surprised look on her face. Allyria nodded, leading Arya to continue, “And the dragon did not try to throw you off?”

“They are rather tame when our cousins are around. If our little nieces and nephews can be around them, riding one with Visenya should be easy,” she told Arya.

“How many princes and princesses are there now?” Arya asked.

“Too many to count. Jon and Dany’s eldest daughter is named after you,” she let her sister know, unaware if Robb or Sansa had told her along the journey south.

“They told me. I cannot wait to see her. I heard you have a son,” Arya said.

“When we get back to the camp, he would like to meet his aunt Arya,” she replied, happy to see her sister cared for her son.

 

Sitting at the end of the table in her husband’s command tent, Allyria watched on with pride as Arya played with Arthur in her lap. Her son had taken to his aunts and she was savoring this moment for war and death lie ahead in the coming months. The war would not end at King’s Landing. There was still the Great War to fight in the North, beyond the Wall.

“What is it like, having a son?” Sansa asked, seated next to her, while their husbands and brother discussed the upcoming siege.

“He is the best part of my life. Giving birth is not pleasant, but it is worth it for everything that comes after. Everything else matters a little less after you have a son or daughter. I still remember everything about the first time he began to crawl and when he took his first steps in the gardens at our home. Why do you ask?” she questioned her sister. Allyria could not help but remember a similar conversation she had with Rhaenys, only she was on the other side of the talk.

“No reason, I just wanted to know,” Sansa said, staring at Arya holding her son. She could not be sure, but Allyria could swear she saw something underneath the mask Sansa wore. _Something in her eyes gives it away. She must be with child, or at least suspects._

It saddened her that Sansa was not completely open with her, but she could see how much her sister had changed. She was no longer the naïve little girl who swooned over handsome southern lords and knights in shining armor. Joffrey, Cersei, and King’s Landing had changed her. _How different would I be if I were their prisoner for over two years? It was probably worse for Sansa considering her age._

“When you decide to have one of your own, you will not regret it,” she said before sipping a fine Arbor gold gifted to her by Lord Paxter Redwyne when she first arrived at Highgarden. “I never asked, how did you manage to get rid of Littlefinger?”

Sansa paused before answering, “He underestimated me or underestimated my ability to trust in the lords of the Vale. He killed my aunt Lysa when she threatened to push me through the Moon Door at the Eyrie. I was going to go along with the lie until Harrold arrived with Lord Royce. He said he had met you and our cousins in Essos and I took a chance. I thought Lord Baelish was using me but I think in his own way, he loved me. He loved my mother and I think he saw something of her in me. I cannot say.”

“And Harrold?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I did not love him at first. He proposed we wed and I accepted, knowing our marriage would help the North and Jon when he returned. It has taken time, but I love him now and I think he loves me. Either that or he is the best of liars, and I have seen the very best of them in King’s Landing,” Sansa said, reminding her of the worst kinds of people that could be found at court, seeking more power.

“I am happy for you,” she said, hoping her sister would find the same happiness she found with Willas.

 

 

**Robb Stark**

“We received a rider in the night, my Lord. The Targaryens have broken the Greyjoy fleet in the Gullet. Euron Greyjoy is dead and all his ships are at the bottom of the Blackwater. Stannis Baratheon is marching up the Kingsroad to join his forces with the Dothraki and a few thousand men from Stonedance and Sharp Point. The Martells are camped outside Tumbleton with the Dornish army,” Wyman Manderly informed the lords standing around the table with a map of the Crownlands and its surrounding lands. “My son has also sent word that the Targaryens are sending their army of Unsullied to Duskendale. They plan to attack King’s Landing from the north.”

Robb stood at the center of the table, overlooking the map with carved figurines representing the various armies converging on the capital. On either side stood Willas Tyrell and Harrold Arryn, contemplating their next move like he was. _Do we wait for Jon’s armies to arrive or move on Cersei Lannister before she can strengthen her defenses?_

“We should attack King’s Landing now before Ser Jaime attacks our forces at a place of his choosing. We have the numbers. Their men cannot defend the entire length of the walls to the city,” Randyll Tarly insisted. Robb was aware of the lord’s prowess at commanding men in battle, but he felt the lord of Horn Hill underestimated the new Lannister allies simply because they were sellswords. _Everything I have heard about the Golden Company gives me reason to respect their strength._

“Lord Tarly can fight the Golden Company and the Westerlands at the walls of King’s Landing if he wants. I rather take my chances in the field,” the Blackfish said, standing with his arms crossed next to Lords Darry, Bracken, Mallister, Whent, and Blackwood. The riverlords appeared to agree in unison with his uncle who was the most experienced man standing at the table.

“If we face them on an open field, those war elephants will tear through our cavalry and infantry. The Golden Company loses any advantage they have if we have them protecting the city instead of attacking us in the open,” Randyll Tarly argued, staring down the Blackfish for dismissing his proposed siege. “And if there is a struggle to take the gates, the Targaryens and their dragons will destroy the men guarding those walls.”

“I don’t see any Targaryens here, do you?” the Blackfish responded. His statement sent the lords around the table into further arguments, yelling at each other over which course of action they should take. A few of the greedier lords even began to suggest invading the undefended Westerlands to take the Lannister mines and more importantly, their gold.

“What do you think?” Willas asked, staring at the lions placed above King’s Landing on the map.

“I don’t know about you, but I didn’t march my men all the way south to sit here, forty miles from King’s Landing, waiting for the Kingslayer to come to us,” Robb said, knowing a siege brought its own problems. Castle walls turned the oldest of men and weakest of green boys into formidable fighters, armed with crossbows, stones, pitch, and trebuchets. _I know how to fight an enemy standing on high walls, but I have never faced an enemy with war elephants. No lord is Westeros has._

“If we are lucky, our King will arrive with his men when we begin our attack on the city,” Harrold added.

“I know Jon. When he hears of our army approaching the capital, he will fly to join us,” Robb said. _Jon flew to the Wall for the Battle of Castle Black and he flew to Hardhomme to help me save the remaining free folk. Many resent his absence in the war in the Riverlands, but I know he would have come if we neared defeat._

“Lord Stark!” he heard a man call for him and turned his head to find one of his men out of breath, standing at the entrance of the great tent. “Our scouts have spotted the Lannister army approaching from the east. They are only six miles away.”

“My lords, gather the army. We fight today, here and now,” he declared, watching his lords rush out of the tent to prepare for battle. It did not take long for him to hear the horn blowers nearby sounding the horns, telling their army there was going to be a battle. “My men will take up position along the river.”

“The Reach will cover your right flank,” Willas followed, walking out of the tent with him. It was a rather warm day and his northmen would not find any advantage to fighting in the harsh conditions of winter. _We are too far south for that, this early into winter._

“When they get close enough, my knights will come from the rear and attack their flank,” Harrold said, before jumping onto the saddle of his horse brought by his young squire.

“And where do you want my men?” his great-uncle asked, not pleased without a position in the vanguard.

“Your men have suffered greater losses than the rest of us. You do not need to lose more men in this fight than needed. Maintain the rearguard and save my ass should our lines break,” Robb said, slapping his uncle’s shoulder before leaving to find his tent and armor.

As he weaved through the maze of tents in the camp, Robb passed men rushing in and out of their tents, struggling to get their armor on, pouring water on the fires, and a few who had never seen battle with nervous looks getting the better of them. It was not only the soldiers he saw scrambling through the camp. He saw a few whores retreating one tent and came across a squire corralling a horse for his lord several yards away. It looked like chaos now, but Robb knew they still had time to prepare their formations and they had the benefit of having the numbers.

When he found his tent, his squire was already there, preparing his armor. _When this is done, I will need to find a new squire. Warrick is getting too old for this. He is already a fine enough fighter._ After strapping on his breastplate, Warrick began to secure the armor protecting his shoulders when he found Arya entering is tent with Nymeria at her side. The first thing he noticed was the firm grip she placed around her slender blade.

“What do you think you are doing?” he asked as Warrick pulled tighter on the leather straps, tightly securing his worn armor.

“What does it look like?” she replied, looking back out of his tent. “Running from a fight? That’s not me.”

“I can’t fight the Lannisters and worry about you at the same time. Whatever you are thinking, its not going to happen. I am the Warden of the North and the head of our House, you are staying with our sisters and our nephew. Protect them and keep them safe. If the battle turns from our favor, ride hard and fast for Highgarden. They should not be able to pursue you,” he ordered Arya, giving her a look that there would be no room for negotiation on the matter.

“Nymeria and her wolves will follow you into battle,” Arya offered.

“Keep them with you. I am sending Grey Wind with you. They are fierce but they will be cut down in an open field before they get a chance to kill any man,” Robb said, having chosen wisely when he used his direwolf in battles across the Riverlands. Grey Wind only joined him when they attacked Lannister camps in the night and by surprise.

“Remember what Jon says,” she replied.

“What’s that?” he asked, struggling to recall what words of wisdom their cousin ever said that was relevant before the task at hand.

“Stick them with the pointy end,” Arya said, causing him to chuckle as Warrick moved to place the armor on his other shoulder.

“Aye, I seem to recall Ser Arthur telling us that in the training yard,” Robb said, thinking about all the times he practiced with his cousin. Jon was far more skilled than himself and Robb considered himself a better swordsman than most. _Training everyday of your life with the Sword of the Morning has its rewards._ Robb knew that did not come easy for Jon. He was a prince, but Robb saw his cousin work hard to become the swordsman he was.

Arya turned to face him before leaving his tent, “Don’t get yourself killed brother.”

“Aye, I won’t,” he answered before watching her disappear with her direwolf close behind. _If I die, Margaery will murder me if there is anything after death._ Seeing Grey Wind still sitting on his hind legs near the entrance of his tent, Robb motioned for his direwolf to follow her. “Go on boy. Keep them safe.”

“That’s it my Lord,” Warrick said, backing away with the last of his armor in place.

“You are a good squire, Warrick, but you are getting too old for this. After we have taken King’s Landing, I will be looking for a new one. Its time you return to White Harbor and serve your grandfather,” Robb said. _I will also ask Jon to knight the lad. It’s the least I can do._

“I can still serve, my Lord,” Warrick tried to reason.

“Nonsense. It is time you stop taking care of my horse, cleaning my armor, and handling my letters. It is time you wield a sword and make a name for yourself,” he said, nodding for his squire to follow him out of the tent.

Nearly one hundred feet away, he saw Sansa climbing onto a white mare with Brienne of Tarth and her squire, Podric Payne, there to protect her. The direwolves and the smaller wolves had formed a circle around his sisters and Ashara Dayne while they prepared to leave. He noticed Willas kiss Allyria farewell before she stepped into a waiting wheelhouse with Arthur in her arms. _May the old gods protect them if we fall._

Arya pulled on the reins of her horse to give him one last look. He could see her silent plea to stay and fight. _My sister is no southern lady, but I cannot allow it._ At the shake of his head, she finally dipped her head in defeat before finally twisting her mare around to join their two sisters already riding westward, out of the camp.

Eventually, his sisters disappeared into the western edge of their camp and Robb moved to settle himself upon the saddle of his black destrier.  As he rode forth toward the battlefield, his men cheered, lifting their spears and swords. They were prepared for battle and expected to win. They were finally facing the Lannisters with the greater numbers and the better army.

Nearly half a mile from the edge of their camp, Robb could see the vanguard forming the frontlines of their defense against the enemy coming for them. He could see Stark, Umber, Glover, and Mormont banners blowing in the wind. Thousands of men were marching out of the camp around him, all looking to where they were supposed to be. Robb could see his men form their line from the banks of the Blackwater Rush on his left to the beginning of Reach banners to his right. _Greatjon needs to hold our lines near the river. I will hold the center with Willas._

Their lines were already four men deep when he came upon Greatjon Umber, Robett Glover, Randyll Tarly, his son, and Leyton Hightower. They were discussing how they should handle the coming attack before they saw him approach. “Lord Robb, I was just telling Lord Randyll how the North plans to deal with these cunts and throw the Kingslayer into the river,” Greatjon boasted, never afraid to say what he thought.

“We will let Jaime Lannister come to us. Our lines are strong and our men well-rested. You will command our men closest to the river. Make sure they do not break,” he ordered the Lord of Last Hearth as Willas Tyrell and Harrold Arryn arrived on their horses.

“Lord Tarly, you will hold the center with Lord Stark and I. Lord Hightower, you will protect our flank and when the time comes, have your horn blowers signal for the knights of the Vale to bring their pincer move,” Willas followed up, informing his men of the battle plan.

“Are your men good riders?” Leyton Hightower asked, knowing his men would be relying on the knights of the Vale to protect against a pincer attack from Jaime Lannister.

“Do not worry about my knights. Just make sure your horn blowers aren’t too drunk to do their job,” Harrold replied in a jesting tone. “Robb, Willas, try to save some of the glory for the rest of us,” Harrold continued, bidding them farewell before riding off to the Arryn lines behind them.

After Harrold rode off with his guards, the other lords began to disperse to find their men and prepare for the battle. Robb found himself there with Willas and their two squires looking toward the gentle sloping field ahead of their lines, waiting for the Lannister army to appear on the horizon. “Have you ever been in a battle?” he asked Willas, not knowing what he did in Essos.

“I have, but in each of those battles, I was on the side that had dragons and right now, I do not see those great beasts flying above,” Willas answered. Robb wondered if he would find any signs of fear or worry in Willas, but he could see none. _He either hides it well or the fighting in Essos was enough to numb him to the fear of battle._

Robb looked around their position to see tens of thousands forming up their lines before answering, “We’ll have to make do with the larger army.”

“Aye. If I fall, tell Allyria…,” Willas started. Robb could tell the thought of dying and leaving his sister behind weighed on him.

“We’re not going to die. Not today,” he cut off his good-brother. _At least we better not. We have all the advantages._ “Just make sure your southern knights hold their ground.”

“Make sure your northmen don’t get piss drunk before the battle even begins,” Willas jested. Robb grinned before nodding farewell, pulling the reins of his destrier toward the formations of Northmen gathering to his left.

Riding behind the first northern phalanxes that would face the first wave of attack from the approaching Westerlands army, Robb started to ask himself why the Lannisters were pressing the attack now. _They should have attacked Willas and the Reach lords when they were camped alone. Now they face nearly one hundred seventy-three thousand men. What does Jaime Lannister know that we do not?_

Mounted on the horses standing behind the first phalanx, Robb came upon Lords Glover, Cerwyn, Reed, and Manderly. All his lords were battle-tested and had his complete trust. Years of fighting against worse odds prepared them for this war. Now that they had the numbers on their side, he could sense the confidence in his lords and the men who followed them.

“Lord Stark! My scouts say they will be here within the hour,” Howland Reed proclaimed, ignoring whatever Lord Robett Glover was boasting about.

“See to it the archers form up behind the first phalanx,” he commanded, knowing they would have little effect. The armies of the Westerlands were always well provisioned and his men’s arrows would do little against the Lannister shields. _It will deter their cavalry from penetrating our lines._

“And why aren’t those wildling cunts fighting at the front with us?” Lord Glover asked. Robb could see the displeasure on the Lord of Deepwood Motte’s face. The old man followed orders, but never held his tongue when it came to the free folk. Most of his lords had come to accept the matter of letting the free folk through the Wall. It did not mean they liked it, but Lord Glover was one of the few who proudly voiced his contempt for them.

“The free folk are not trained for this. I put them out front and we all die. If Jaime Lannister breaks our lines and the battle turns to chaos, that is when they will be of use,” Robb answered, emphasizing they not be referred to as wildlings.

The lords accepted his reasoning and turned their horses to find their soldiers across the battlefield. Robb kept his position behind the direwolf banners of House Stark, held by the men from Winterfell. Within their phalanx, men from Greywater Watch, commanded by Lord Howland Reed stood by their side holding the grey-green banners with a black lizard-lion.

Not long after the northern lords rode off to find their positions, their entire army was in position, waiting for the army from King’s Landing. To his right, past his squire, Robb could see the colorful banners and shining armor of the army led by Willas Tyrell. It would not be hard for anyone to point out which phalanxes belonged to who. His northmen kept to dark furs, cloaks, leathers, and worn armor. Over his right shoulder, he could see the knights of the Vale sitting on their horses, ready to move on their opponent’s flank. Directly behind him, he saw the banners of the Riverlands fluttering in the wind, ready to move in wherever their lines appeared weakest.

As soon as his gaze returned to the open field before them, Robb saw the first lines of the Lannister army cresting the hill. They would hold their position and let their enemy come to them on more level ground. Robb knew, despite how little the ground rose, his men could tire fighting against the westermen.

With the westermen marching on their position, Robb started to count their numbers since the scouts failed to report a number. By his count, it appeared Jaime Lannister brought forty-five thousand men with him. It was not the entirety of the Lannister army, but it was nearly all of them. _Perhaps fifteen thousand remain in King’s Landing, not counting the sellswords?_

“I don’t know how you southerners fight like this. Its so damn hot you can’t even breathe the air. Not like north of the Wall,” Tormund said, appearing at his side atop a grey horse. Tormund was one of the few free folk who rode a horse. Most preferred to march and fight on their feet.

“Better than freezing to death beyond the Wall,” Robb said, staring at the army closing in.

“Tell me again Robb Stark, why are we fighting these cunts?” Tormund asked.

“Those cunts murdered my father, Jon’s father and brother, and my wife’s father and brother. And if they get the chance, they will kill all the free folk too. That is why we are fighting them,” he replied, tightening his grip on the reins unintentionally.

“Aye, sounds like a good reason,” Tormund said.

Concentrating on the Lannister lines inching closer and closer, Robb waited for the moment the westermen entered within range of his archers. He was not going hit them too soon. The first arrows would be the most effective. “Archers, nock! Draw!,” he yelled, waiting for the right moment. “Loose!”

Hearing the arrows leave the bows behind him, he turned his eyes to the sky, tracking the volley of arrows coming to their peak before falling on the enemy ahead. He could not see through the wall of crimson shields and armor, but he guessed dozens fell. _Maybe more. It matters not. This battle will be won by spear, axe, and sword._

“Nock! Draw! Loose!” he ordered three more times until the westermen closed the distance and were only one hundred feet from their lines. They had the numbers, but this was not going to be an easy victory. The Lannister army was well trained and disciplined. None of their men ever broke rank and caused panic through their phalanx. It was only the green boys and old men who he fought in a campaign through the Westerlands that Robb found easily beaten westermen.

“Keep those shields tight men! Hold the line! Hold the line!” Howland Reed commanded, earning yells of approval from his men.

It was only when twenty feet stood between the armies that the westermen began to run into their lines, trying to gather some momentum that would penetrate and create a gap in their lines. Robb watched on as shields, spears, swords, and axes clattered against each other. The fighting was gruesome and bloody. The initial defense was going to be slow and tough work. Robb saw men fall on both sides, but the Lannisters appeared to lose men at quicker rate than his own.

Blood sprayed in the air as battleaxes were buried into men’s skulls through their helms and spears pierced the weak, unprotected parts of their enemy’s armor. Behind him, the archers made way for infantry men who would get in the muck, fighting close with sword and spear. His men from Winterfell were holding strong with their great shields keeping the enemy on their heels, unable to push through.

Seeing his men were beginning to turn the Lannisters back, Robb looked to the men led by Greatjon Umber near the river. His eyes searched for the Lord of Last Hearth on his horse, but failed to find him until spying him towering over the westermen along the lines, cutting down one with every blow, barking orders to his men. Robb would have preferred the lord stay back for now and command the men, but he knew that was how Greatjon Umber fought. It was a risk, but it instilled great confidence and courage in their men.

As the North began to gain some ground, Robb turned in his saddle to find Willas was holding his ground. For the brief moments he observed the Reach fight, he realized they would fare worse than his own men. They did not have years of experience fighting wars against the westermen and Ironborn like his own men.

Just when he found an opening begin to form near the ground held by Lord Cerwyn’s men, Robb heard the horns coming from Leyton Hightower’s position at the edge of their army. Robb waited with anticipation until he saw the blue banners of House Arryn followed by the countless other banners from the Vale moving at some speed around the edge of the battle toward the southern flank of the Lannister army. Knowing it did no good sitting there on his horse, Robb slid off his saddle and unsheathed his sword to join the Cerwyn men struggling to hold the line.

Pushing his way through the eight lines of men standing between himself and the fighting, Robb could hear Howland Reed calling for him to stay back and lead. Tormund and Warrick Manderly pushed their way through with him, ready to fight at his side. Warrick knew not to stop him and Tormund was Tormund. _He does not give two shits about nobility or royalty. He would tell every man to fight._

“Hold the line men! Hold the line!” he yelled before impaling a boy no older than nineteen with his sword. The young lad did not see his blade until it was too late and his lifeless corpse disappeared under their army pushing the offensive. Robb struggled just like the rest, trying his best not to trip over the dead strewn across the battlefield.

Taking one foot of ground at a time, Robb stabbed any man who tried to break the shield wall in front of him. After killing his fifth man, he narrowly missed a spear thrusted toward his face for it to only glance off the armor covering his shoulder. He could not reach the man who nearly killed him, but it did not matter when he saw Tormund pushing through the line hacking away at two men before burying a knife in the spearman’s eye.

It felt like the battle had been raging for hours, but Robb knew in truth, it had only lasted a third of an hour before he heard horns blasting from the southeast. He thought Harrold had broken through the Lannister lines and now had them retreating. The second horn blast let him know this was not the Vale nor the Reach. _The Golden Company!_ “Tormund, don’t let them break through! Warrick, watch his back!” Robb commanded before turning to find his horse.

Running past the men ready to join the fighting, Robb found his horse standing next to Howland Reed, who still directed the men before them. Quickly climbing the saddle, Robb turned his gaze to the southeast and saw the Vale cavalry retreating as nearly fifty war elephants broke Harrold’s pincer movement. “We have a serious problem,” Howland Reed said, pointing to the Golden Company’s attack from the corner of his vision.

“Seven hells!” Robb cursed as he tried to think of how they would stand against the war elephants tearing through the cavalry, fast-approaching the lines held by Leyton Hightower, Randyll Tarly, and Willas Tyrell. He now understood why Jaime Lannister was willing to gamble with fewer men. The Golden Company marched with him. They knew about the war elephants, but he underestimated their effectiveness in battle. _I thought well-trained riders would hold their own against the slow beasts._

“Those damn things will tear right through us if we do not break the Lannister lines now,” Howland Reed warned him as the Golden Company’s infantry followed behind the war elephants running down the knights brave enough to stand against them.

Robb had previously dismissed the abilities of the Golden Company. He thought the tales of their exploits in Essos were greatly exaggerated. Now seeing them for himself, he saw they were just as disciplined as a Westerosi army and well-armed. Their golden armor glimmered under the sunlight behind the war elephants trampling over horses toward Willas’ army.

It was only now Robb knew they could be defeated. He had not considered this a real possibility considering they commanded a far larger army. _How did it come to this? Even if we win, our army will be broken before we reach the gates of King’s Landing. I will not accept this. We cannot retreat and turn back. Not again._

Robb readied himself to lead his men in another push through the Lannister lines when he heard horn blasts from the east, then the south, and finally from the southwest. Each horn carried a distinct sound through the air despite how hard it was to listen through the clashing of steel, screams of dying men, and restless horses afraid of the chaos.

Directly ahead to the east, Robb saw another army appearing at the crest of the hill behind the Lannister army. He thought it was a secondary cavalry force from King’s Landing that would ride in to cut down what remained of their army until he saw the three small, black forms growing larger in the sky behind them. _Jon!_

From the south, he saw what must be the Dothraki charging on horseback down field toward the Golden Company’s side, completely unafraid of the war elephants. The thunder of their hooves beating the ground and the foreign screams of the Dothraki rang through the air louder than anything else on the entire battlefield. In the distance, beyond the top of hill to the south, Robb could make out three dragons flying behind the Dothraki.

Twisting in his saddle to find the approaching force from the southwest, Robb spotted what must be the Dornish army riding fast and hard to join the knights of the Vale. Harrold must have been regrouping his knights for another attack because Robb saw the Arryn banners circling around to ride against the war elephants again. Another three dragons appeared in the sky behind the Dornish army. _That must be Rhaenys._

The dragons must have been too far away for most to see because Robb did not see their armies have the reaction he expected. Robb could still see the Tyrell army struggling to hold their ground against the westermen as the war elephants came closer to their line. The Golden Company’s terrifying beasts were now just yards away from breaking the lines held by the lords of the Reach. The Hightowers were going to be the first to perish before the dragons and Dothraki could reach them.

It was then, the loudest roar from a beast he had ever heard broke through the sky as the large silver-scaled dragon flew low over their position directly toward the war elephants ready to trample the Reach knights. _Visenya!_ Before the Golden Company could turn the tide of victory, Visenya’s dragon unleashed a wall of fire upon a dozen war elephants. The flames raged and consumed the great beasts that began to flail on the ground before quickly succumbing to the flames. Their army roared at the sight of dragonfire engulfing the sellswords. Robb had never heard men cheer so loudly before his cousin destroyed their enemies.

Seconds after Visenya bathed the Golden Company in dragonfire, two more dragons followed laying down similar paths of fire through the westermen fighting on the ground with the Tyrell army. A great black-scaled dragon was next to dive down, unleashing dragonfire on the Lannister formations directly in front of his northmen. Robb could see a rider with silver hair on the back of the beast and he knew that had to be Daenerys.

The dragons had finally reached Westeros and the Lannister army was on the run. Before he could give his men any order, his phalanxes broke apart as his men charged after the fleeing westermen. Victory was theirs, but the battlefield was turning to utter chaos. “Fuck it. After them men!” he yelled, pointing his sword to the east.

Robb leapt off his destrier to join the men running past him, eager to kill any Lannister soldier they could get their hands on. This war had affected every Northman. If you were from the North, you lost a brother, father, cousin, or friend in the Riverlands. This was their revenge.

Running across the battlefield, Robb struggled to catch up to their enemy in retreat. His heavy armor slowed him down and it was impossible to run in a straight line with corpses strewn across the ground and lines of dragonfire still blazing in the field. The further he ran, the more roars and flashes of fire filled his senses. The intense heat from the dragonfire was beginning to get to him. He learned to avoid the flames still raging for they carried the intensity of a blacksmith’s forge.

After making his way several hundred yards across the battlefield, he found several westermen trying to navigate their way through the maze of fire left by the Targaryens. As Robb approached the closest to him, his foe caught sight of him and raised his sword to parry the oncoming blow. He failed to strike the man who impressively had no fear in his eyes, when a Dothraki rider appeared with his curved blade to remove his head.

Soon enough, they were surrounded by Dothraki, riding through at full speed on their horses, cutting down their enemy before any Northman could reach them. Every time he saw a soldier to fight, Robb was too late. The Dothraki cut down countless men, dispensing with them without fear and without mercy. _Killing is sport to them. How could any army defeat them? Jon could win his rightful throne with just the Dothraki._

Realizing there was nothing to be done, Robb stopped to gather his breath and watch Jon’s forces destroy Jaime Lannister’s army. All around him, fires raged while others simmered away to reveal a scorched battlefield. There were no rotting corpses. Just charred ones, blackened to a crisp. Some had already turned to ash.

Along the riverbank, Robb could see westermen discarding their armor, trying to swim across the Blackwater Rush. Some were not so lucky. He could see some had been burned before reaching the river, flailing helplessly in the flames before collapsing.

 

 

**Jon Targaryen**

It had been two days since word reached Dragonstone that Jaime Lannister left King’s Landing at the head of an army consisting of forty-five thousand westermen and twenty-thousand sellswords from the Golden Company. With Stannis Baratheon already near the Kingsroad with their khalasar waiting to ride for King’s Landing, Jon flew from Dragonstone immediately with his Queens.

When they landed outside the camp at the edge of the Kingswood, Jon was pleased to find their Dothraki were not making trouble with the men from the Stormlands. His bloodriders had managed to keep the khalasar from splintering while he ruled in Meereen and that had not changed when they set foot in Westeros. Any concern for the Stormlords raising an issue over a foreign army near their lands was warranted, but Jon found Stannis kept the more troublesome lords in line.

Now standing around the hastily assembled command tent, giving their horses a rest, he focused on the map spread across the small wooden table. Stannis stood across from him, flanked by Gendry with Lords Tarth and Mertyn. Jon noticed Davos’ unease, standing beside him as his Hand, holding more power than his former liege lord.

Jon knew his choice for Hand to the King would be a controversial one. Many highborn lords would protest a lowborn crabber’s son and former smuggler holding the most power in the Seven Kingdoms outside House Targaryen, but Jon had the man he wanted. He trusted Davos and knew he would always receive honest council. Stannis would have been his first choice, but Jon decided against picking the Lord of Storm’s End because of Stannis’ iron will and inability to have a soft touch when it came to certain matters.

After Renly divided the Stormlands and declared himself a king, Jon knew Stannis was needed in Storm’s End and not the Red Keep. _He will take it as a slight, but I want him to regain a firm grip on the Stormlords._ When Stannis bent the knee and greeted him upon arriving outside the camp, Jon informed him of his decision to name him Master of War. Stannis would lead their armies in war when he or his Queens could not. He also let him know he would always have a seat at the Small Council, but he wanted Stannis to look after the Stormlands before serving House Targaryen in King’s Landing.

“Our scouts report the Lannister army are encamped here,” Stannis said, pointing to a point along the Blackwater Rush. “We are here. Ten miles stand between us and the Kingslayer. They will likely attack Robb Stark and Willas Tyrell in the night.”

“And how far are they from the Lannister army?” Visenya asked, standing next to Daenerys, while Rhaenys stood on her other side with Arthur Dayne.

“Ten miles,” Stannis replied.

“We have him trapped! The Kingslayer is fool enough to think he can defeat us on the field,” Lord Mertyn proclaimed. Jon could not help but shake his head at the lord’s assessment of Jaime’s capabilities as a commander on the battlefield.

“Ser Jaime had no choice. If he stays behind the walls of King’s Landing, he knows he will lose. He knows if he allows our armies to gather as one force, they cannot see victory. He took a gamble because it is the only move. He will attack here,” Jon pointed on the map to Robb’s position. “He will lead the Lannister army and attack them head on. They will fight well and hold their lines. Lord Arryn will likely lead his cavalry to attack the Lannister flank, leaving them exposed to the Golden Company’s elephants. They are camped a mile behind the Lannister army to prevent scouts from knowing of their presence.”

“He places too much faith in the sellswords,” Stannis added, still holding the ever stern look on his face. _And they say I never smile?_

“Ser Jorah Mormont fought with the Golden Company before serving me in Essos. He said they are not to be underestimated. They may have been in Essos for decades, but men from our country make up their ranks. I have not seen these war elephants, but Ser Jorah said they will tear through our cavalry and infantry with ease,” he replied, confidant in their advisor’s experience.

“They may crush men and trample horses, but they cannot stop a dragon,” Daenerys added, focusing on the map how he himself usually did.

“And you trust Mormont? Eddard Stark named him a criminal and called for his head,” Stannis replied, questioning his forgiveness of Ser Jorah. _He thinks I am too forgiving of Jorah. Its not a surprise. Despite saving every soul from starvation in Storm’s End, Stannis removed Davos’ fingers all the same._

“Aye. He has served me well and I trust his opinion in matters of combat,” Jon replied. Ser Jorah was not present for the coming battle because he was with Grey Worm and Lord Celtigar, leading the Unsullied and Crownlands army on the march from Duskendale to King’s Landing.

Lord Monford Velaryon and his brother, Aurane, had already set sail to lead the blockade of King’s Landing before they had left Dragonstone. Ser Jonothor Darry still remained to protect their family on Dragonstone with a force of three thousand men. Jon trusted the Kingsguard with his children’s lives and that of his mothers’ and grandmother’s.

“We could hit them now, your Grace. Catch them unawares and unprepared for an attack from the east,” Ser Barristan pointed out.

“I would agree with you, but we will attack at nightfall. My Queens and I will fly at their camp and set it aflame. Their scorpions will be useless under the cover of night. After we have burned enough of their camp, our men can ride forth and finish what is left of them,” Jon said, pointing at the Lannister position.

“Should we wait for Arianne and her army to arrive?” Rhaenys asked.

“No, we have all we need to defeat them. There is no need to delay further,” he said. Jon was glad to see her accept his judgement with a simple nod of her head. Jon wanted his Queens involved with ruling the Seven Kingdoms, but he would carry the burden of leading when it came to matters of war.

“My lords! My lords!” Jon heard a young boy running toward their table, being stopped by Ser Oswell. Jon saw the panic on the boy’s face as he recognized who was standing around the table within the tent. “I am sorry, your Graces,” the boy bumbled out, huffing nearly out of breath.

“Out with it boy,” Stannis said, glaring at the lad.

“Our scouts report the Kingslayer is on the move. He is marching west,” the boy said.

“So much for fighting on our terms,” Davos mused, turning to look to him for a decision.

“My lords, we ride at once. Lord Stannis and I will attack from the east. Daenerys, find our bloodriders and have our khalasar attack from the south. Rhaenys, fly ahead and find Arianne. Bring the Dornish army from the southwest if there is time,” Jon laid out the simple plan. _We do not have time for clever plans. Dragons allow for such luxuries._

“And where will I be?” Visenya asked.

“Attack from the north. Burn the westermen and sellswords hitting Robb’s lines. I will attack their wagons and scorpions before cutting off an escape to the river. Rhaenys and Daenerys will cut through their southern flank to allow the Dothraki and Dornish to destroy whoever is left standing,” Jon added. Everyone listened to his orders carefully and were ready to leave the tent, until he continued, “One more thing, no sellsword lives. If any westermen surrender, take them prisoner. The sellswords will not receive such mercy.”

“Pardon me, your Grace, but…,” Davos started before he held up his hand to stop what his Hand intended to say.

“No, Davos. They sealed their fate the moment they crossed the Narrow Sea and took the Iron Bank’s gold,” Jon said, leaving no room for his friend to try and dissuade him. _They likely plotted with the Iron Bank to murder my family. At least the lowborn westermen can claim to have no choice in fighting this war. The sellswords in the Golden Company do not have lords to answer to._ “If that is all my lords.”

After Stannis and his bannermen left, Jon could hear the horn blowers alerting the army to prepare for battle. With their Kingsguard protecting them, Jon weaved through the maze of tents toward the Dothraki side of the camp. Waiting for them were their bloodriders and another hundred men ready to fight against a real army. It was hard to miss the bloodthirst and eagerness in their eyes.

While Stannis’ men were still preparing their horses and donning their armor, Jon watched their khalasar begin to ride out toward the southwest as he marched toward Vermithrex. His dragon had taken over a small hill just outside the Dothraki camp with the rest of their dragons.

“Barristan, Arthur, Oswell. You may leave us. Help Stannis and Gendry lead the attack,” he ordered his Kingsguard, who reluctantly accepted his orders, trusting the dragons to protect them.

Turning back to his Queens, Jon saw Daenerys and Visenya were calm and prepared for the battle. Rhaenys seemed uneasy about the coming battle and what it meant. She was close to Ser Jaime and Jon knew she felt torn, knowing he would likely die before the day was over.

“Remember, do not linger over the battlefield. Attack them with speed and circle back out of range of their archers. Vermithrex will destroy the scorpions before they get a chance to use them,” he warned them. He knew they were excellent dragonriders and did not need his advice, but he still worried over their safety regardless.

“You do this every time. We know what to do,” Daenerys countered, pulling on his gambeson to capture his lips. He wanted to say more as he stared at her hooded eyes after she withdrew. Before he could tell Daenerys he loved her, she turned on her heels to find Drogon and join the khalasar.

Shifting his gaze from Daenerys climbing onto her dragon and taking flight, Jon found Rhaenys bristling with the need to say to something. He could sense she was nervous about what she wanted to say and pulled her close, trying to ease her hesitance. “What is it?”, he asked, searching for the answer in her dark eyes.

“What if Jaime yields?” she asked with a tremble in her voice.

“He won’t,” he replied. Jon always liked Jaime Lannister, even if the rest of the realm thought him an oathbreaker and pompous cunt. But that was before his father and brother were murdered. Jaime was the one who pushed Bran from the tower at Winterfell and led an army to fight Robb.

“But if he does,” Rhaenys replied, squeezing his hand, asking for mercy. “Let him bend the knee and take the black.”

“You can’t be serious? He nearly killed Bran and fought against the North in the Riverlands. He leads Cersei’s armies,” he replied, wondering why she had such a soft spot for Jaime considering all that had happened.

“And Bran lived. Jaime saved my life. He has never taken up arms against our House. I have heard you speak of the Night King and the Army of the Dead. Jaime is one of the greatest fighters in the realm. We will need him in the war to come,” she answered. “I know him, he will bend the knee for us. He did not betray us then and he will not now.”

“You are looking for honor in him that is not there. He is loyal to Cersei, not us. If I see him on the field, he is a dead man,” he promised, seeing the disagreement thinly veiled on her face.

“Jon, you are the King and I will not argue, but remember, you showed mercy to the Tyrells,” she replied before laying a gentle kiss upon his lips. _The Tyrells who gave Renly a crown are dead and they were not lovers to Cersei._ While watching Rhaenys find her way to Myrax, Jon wondered why his Queen who tended to show the least mercy was willing to forgive someone such as Jaime Lannister.

“She isn’t wrong about the Tyrells,” Visenya said, standing next to him in Vermithrex’s shadow on top of the hill overlooking the remaining dragons and the khalasar riding across the plain.

“You think I should have killed Willas and taken Highgarden from them?”

“No, they killed Joffrey and Margaery wed Robb. And now our cousin is the Lady of Highgarden, but they did choose another king and you showed mercy. Aegon the Conqueror knew when to let his enemies bend the knee. Ser Jaime can still fight for us and the living if he chooses to,” Visenya said.

“He will not. He loves Cersei and knows we will not let her live. I would never bend the knee to a king who planned for your death,” he countered.

“And I am not Cersei. She will turn him against her. The weaker her position becomes, she will grow more desperate, and push away her allies. Everyone thinks I spend too much time in my books, but I do know things. Cersei is just like Maegor or Grandfather. In the end, they had no one and were killed by someone close to them,” Visenya stated, confident in her words.

“They are hardly the same. Both were killed by men serving them, not a lover,” he dismissed the comparison.

Visenya shook her head, continuing, “Did Grandmother not love him? Perhaps not as a wife loves her husband, but he was her brother before he went mad. Ser Jaime held the blade, but he did not kill the Mad King.”

Three horn blasts from the field below and thousands of riders from the Stormlands riding off for battle let him know it was now time for them to be parted. “We will speak of this later. Burn as many of the war elephants as you can before the battle turns into utter chaos.”

“I will, just make sure the scorpions are destroyed before they can harm our dragons,” Visenya said as he cupped her cheek before kissing her farewell. “And stay in the air. Your Queen commands it,” she yelled over her shoulder, crossing the green grass toward Silverclaw.

“Aye,” he said under his breath, knowing this battle would not last that long nor require his presence on the ground. Any foe caught in an open field by all twelve dragons and their entire khalasar would not remain a living foe for long.

Jon stood next to Vermithrex, observing Visenya gracefully climbing onto Silverclaw and taking to the sky. His eyes tracked her path across the sky, flying low over the Baratheon army, until she became just a speck against the northern clouds. Readying himself for the battle, Jon relinquished his firm grip on Blackfyre and stepped forward to climb atop his dragon.

Vermithrex did not need to hear his commands as the dark grey dragon took flight with Stormfyre and Sonar in pursuit. With the wind raging and his dragon furiously beating his wings, Jon was flying over Stannis’ men, who were riding hard to the west along the Blackwater Rush.  Despite flying atop a dragon, this would be the slowest twenty miles of his life.

There were the occasional woodlands along the river, but for the most part, the lands ahead consisted of long sloping hills and open fields. As each mile passed, he failed to spot an enemy scout. Keeping himself high in the sky, Jon finally saw the battle had already begun before their arrival, far in the distance.

With nearly two miles standing between Stannis and the Lannister army, Jon had Vermithrex descend toward their allies to stay relatively low to the ground and out of sight until needed. He could see Visenya flying toward the battle to his right while Daenerys flew circles over what must have been their khalasar’s position to the south. _Hopefully Rhaenys found Arianne and Edric in time._

Trying to glance past the large grey wings of his dragon, he was able to spot his Kingsguard at the head of the army with Stannis and Gendry, ordering the cavalry to spread out. Arthur, Barristan, and Oswell understood why he descended toward the ground. While the stormlords rode hard, Jon was forced to weave through the sky to maintain a slow enough pace until the moment was right.

It did not take long for Stannis to lead the army up the final hill standing between them and the battlefield. The moment the first wave crested the hill and became visible to any westerman or sellsword looking in the wrong direction, Jon urged his dragon to finally fly directly toward their enemy. Leaving the army behind, Jon concentrated on the line of wagons carrying food, weapons, armor, tents, and various supplies needed for an army. Unable to distinguish which of them held the scorpions, he decided he needed to destroy all of them.

In the moments before his dragons were ready to unleash their flames, Jon could not stop himself from following Visenya’s path over the Blackwater Rush. Flying along the Stark lines, Silverclaw came upon the war elephants hitting the Tyrell phalanxes and unleashed her dragonfire. A great wall of flame began to form, blocking his sight of the knights from the Reach. Even with the wind raging across his face and filling his ears with noise, he could hear the cheers of their allies.

With Visenya landing the first blow, Vermithrex struck next, igniting a line of thirty unmanned wagons below, lighting a path of destruction below. As Vermithrex continued with their destruction of the supply line, Jon quickly spotted his other two dragons attacking the wagons that stood apart from the main grouping. Stormfyre and Sonar moved with great speed, quickly striking their targets before moving onto another.

After having destroyed the majority of his enemies’ wagons in short order, Jon guided his dragon toward the river to attack the soldiers attacking what looked to be an Umber phalanx. Most of the men who perished in Vermithrex’s dragonfire were lucky to not see their death coming. They were too focused the northmen ahead and his Queens flying their nine dragons to his left.

Daenerys had already made an opening along the Lannister and Golden Company flank that their Dothraki did not actually need. Banking over the armies of the North and Riverlands, Jon glimpsed the knights of the Vale falling in behind the Dornish army led by Edric Dayne from the southwest. Each of the war elephants that looked to have a decided advantage against any Westerosi cavalry had fallen under the power of their dragons. Their large, burning carcasses now only served as hinderances against the Dornish descending upon the fleeing sellswords.

With Vermithrex heading toward the Lannister army, flying over the Dornish army, Jon fell in behind Rhaenys starting her second attack. Myrax unleashed her dragonflame upon the Lannister center just before the Dothraki cut their way through the field. The battle was already won and Jon was careful to guide his dragon to attack soldiers who were not close to their men. Flying fast toward the Blackwater Rush, Vermithrex cut a path from the center of the westermen to the men fleeing for the safety of the river.

Now over the river again, Jon angled his dragon to twist toward the south over the Stormlords who were now cutting down the men fleeing the scorched fields of fire. Readying for another pass, Jon spotted thousands of sellswords from the Golden Company running for their lives to the southeast. Their Dothraki were overcommitted to the attack and left an opening between themselves and Stannis Baratheon.

Knowing there was little left for them to do without risking the lives of their own men, Jon guided Vermithrex toward the retreating Golden Company. The sellsword company conspired with the Iron Bank and many of its men were known Blackfyre supporters. This was his final chance to rid his House of a sworn enemy that always posed a certain threat across the Narrow Sea.

Without mercy, Jon burned the first stragglers he came upon. One by one, he flew past the sellswords, bathing each in dragonflame strong enough to melt castle walls and break the will of even the strongest of men. Aiding his efforts in the destruction of the men exiled from Westeros by his family, Daenerys, Rhaenys, and Visenya joined in his pursuit of the Golden Company.

There were still some sellswords running across the field who managed to escape their first attack, but Jon paid them no mind when he saw their rider less dragons break formation to attack the men that remained. Jon pushed ahead, flying toward the sellswords lucky enough to have horses. Being mounted on horseback only delayed their certain deaths for some moments before he attacked each of the sellswords with his Queens.

In the end, only one of the sellswords remained, beating his horse in a panic to get away from the flames that had consumed his men. Jon could see the man was rather fat for a sellsword and surmised the rider was one of the commanders of the Golden Company. _He leads his men into a war facing certain defeat and then flees like a coward?_ Holding utter contempt for the man, Jon yelled to Vermithrex, “Dracarys!”

The sellsword commander’s screams were brief before he succumbed to the flames consuming his horse and himself. After flying past the burning corpse, Vermithrex circled back after he failed to spot anymore men in retreat. What he found behind them was a path of destruction. A clear path of scorched ground leading from the battlefield to the last living men of the Golden Company.

Flames still raged from his attack on the supply wagons, but most of the fires across the battlefield were beginning to simmer. Over a mile from the battlefield, Jon could see the fighting was over. The Dothraki were no longer riding their horses, cutting down any man they could find. If he had to guess, they were likely taking weapons, armor, and anything of worth from the dead who were lucky enough to avoid being consumed by dragonflame.

Flying toward their army, Jon heard the cries of victory from the men of Westeros. Thousands began to cheer and raise their swords as they passed overhead. The dragons inspired fear in their enemies and just as much courage in their own men. If he was not the King of Westeros, Jon would fly for King’s Landing and oversee the Unsullied surrounding the city’s walls. But he was a King and Jon knew they needed to inspire the men loyal to them and demonstrate the strength of their dragons.

For several minutes, Jon flew over the battlefield, taking in the cost of the fighting and who suffered the heaviest losses. Eyes darting back and forth, he eventually found small groups of westermen who surrendered. While there were perhaps a few thousand survivors, the Houses of the Westerlands lost the most after the Golden Company. Amongst their allies, he surmised the Reach lost the most men.

When he had seen enough, Jon began to search for Stannis’ stag banners. It did not take long to find the Lord of Storm’s End standing with his Hand, Kingsguard, and his cousin where the northern army stood. Ser Arthur and Ser Barristan began to order men away and open ground for their dragons to land. As soon as the soldiers on the field below made room for Vermithrex, Jon began his descent to meet with his men.

 

 

**Visenya Targaryen**

Having just landed, Visenya threw her leg over and slid as gracefully as she could down the smooth silver scales of her dragon. With her feet securely on the ground, she gently smoothed her hand across Silverclaw’s snout, feeling the heat underneath the dragon’s scales. Even in the coldest of days, flying through brisk northern air, her mount kept her warm. More so, considering how far south they were.

“Kirimvose, ñuha raqiros,” she whispered her thanks to Silverclaw as the light clouds of smoke began to blow across the battlefield. Finally backing away from her dragon so she could take flight, Visenya looked around to see what the aftermath looked like standing on the ground. Several corpses were lying on the ground, but she was unable to see much else. They were surrounded by northmen and knights from the Stormlands still looking in awe of their dragons.

Before she could even take a step toward the gathering lords, Ser Oswell was at her side, there to protect her from any harm that could be hidden amongst the ranks. Shooting a quick glance at Oswell’s Valyrian steel sword in hand, a gift from Volantis, she noted the blood still covering the marvelous creation from her ancestors. It was a surprise to her the Kingsguard had the chance to slay any men on the field. The dragons and Dothraki cut through Jaime Lannister’s army so quickly, she wondered if Stannis Baratheon’s host would get to tell any stories of battle.

Daenerys and Rhaenys were already at Jon’s side with Barristan Selmy and Arthur Dayne on either side, keeping an eye on every man within sight since every man around them carried steel. Jon appeared to be speaking with Davos and Lord Stannis, likely instructing them on what should be done regarding the dead and when they planned to march on King’s Landing. With several direwolf banners fluttering in the wind behind them, she prayed to the old gods her cousin was alive and well. 

Her prayers were answered as she stepped several feet closer, spotting Robb standing between Davos Seaworth and Gendry Baratheon. Relieved to see he was alive, Visenya quickened her pace across the grass torn apart by their khalasar toward her kin.  Brushing past Ser Barristan, Visenya threw her arms around her cousin without care for the blood and dirt covering his armor. _I never did care for my dresses._

“Thank the gods you are alright,” she said against his shoulder. Slowly easing away, she felt a bit of blood smeared on her cheek and she wiped her sleeve to remove it from her skin. “I pray we were not too late.”

“We had the battle won until the Golden Company appeared. Their war elephants would have torn through our lines if not for your dragons,” Robb replied, smiling with joy for their victory.

“Did you lose many men?” she asked, concerned for the northmen who held fierce loyalty to her mother, Jon, and herself. A Targaryen with the blood of the First Men filled the northern lords with pride and every lord who visited Winterfell always made sure to remind her of their loyalty to Queen Lyanna Stark and her children.

“Fewer than Willas I think,” Robb answered, looking around as if he would spot more men being carried off the field, adding to the number of dead. “More than I would prefer.”

Nodding her head in agreement, she turned her attention to Jon speaking with Stannis and their Hand. “Have our men gather the dead and burn their bodies. Those who wish may bury theirs. Our Dothraki will take the prisoners your men have,” Jon ordered just as Lords Willas Tyrell and Harrold Arryn appeared, standing beside Stannis Baratheon. Stannis’ contempt for Willas was easy for all to see. _To be fair, Stannis holds contempt for almost every man drawing breath._

“Are they to be hanged as traitors?” Stannis asked.

“They will be given the chance to bend the knee. The lowborn did not have a choice in the matter and the highborn will be given the chance to learn from their mistakes,” Jon said. They had discussed the matter beforehand and decided the lords of the Westerlands would be forced to send hostages to Houses loyal to her family after they had reclaimed the Iron Throne. “Has anyone found Jaime Lannister’s body?”

“Hard to say, your Grace. Its likely he is dead with the rest. Some may have made it across the Blackwater,” Davos answered.

“He is alive,” Ser Arthur cut in, earning puzzled looks from everyone listening. “He would have taken plenty of your men with him before falling. If no one can account for his death, he has escaped.”

“It matters not. Our Dothraki will ride ahead and clear the road from here to King’s Landing. Give your men time to rest, but in two days we ride for King’s Landing to end this,” Jon ordered the lords of the Stormlands, Reach, Vale, and North.

“I will send some of my men with them who know the land. They will know where to find Cersei’s scouts,” Willas promised, looking worn from a hard-fought battle. Visenya wondered if his brother Garlan had survived, considering she did not see his brother amongst the men standing behind him.

“Very well, I’ll see to it our bloodriders are made aware of their presence,” Jon added.

There was nothing left to discuss regarding the battle and Stannis left with his son and Davos to oversee the handling of prisoners and whatever Jon had instructed that she missed before joining them. She noticed Brynden Tully join their company as they walked away, having not seen the Blackfish for many years. _The only tolerable Tully._

The old man’s black armor and clothing did bring a smile to her face. In a way, he reminded her of Jon. He was not a man of many words and was not one to be found at feasts, boasting of his accomplishments in battle. Stories of bravery from southern knights never filled her with wonder or awe. Visenya thought most of the stories great exaggerations or outright lies that always made her suspicious of the loudest warriors.

“I was hoping to beat you to the Golden Company,” Daenerys said, referencing Silverclaw’s destruction of the elephants hitting the Tyrell line.

“Drogon is fierce, no doubt, but Silverclaw is quicker,” she replied, walking toward Jon, Daenerys, and her sister. Before she could say more, she noticed Rhaenys look past her and Visenya looked back to find Edric Dayne and Arianne Martell approaching. From what she could tell, Arianne had already given birth to the babe she carried before departing for Westeros.

Rhaenys went to her cousin in a rush, pulling Arianne into her arms as Edric kept walking, bowing his head to her and Daenerys. Jon was the first to greet him, falling into a long discussion regarding the battle and how they should proceed with taking King’s Landing. In the past, she would have clung to Jon’s side to go over the battle plans, but she felt compelled to hear Arianne speak of the future Princess of Dorne.

Princess Nymella sounded like a wonderful babe who would grow to be a beautiful princess to rule from Sunspear and serve Rhaegar decades from now. Arianne assured them they would get to see her daughter, leaving her with a trusted wet-nurse and several men sworn to House Martell. More impressive than Arianne leading the Dornish like her ancestor, Nymeria, was her tale regarding the retaking of Sunspear. She could see it did pain Arianne to fight her cousins, but Visenya couldn’t help but smirk after hearing the Sand Snakes’ fate. Oberyn’s daughters were overconfident in her eyes and always rubbed her the wrong way the few times they met.

“Visenya,” she heard a familiar voice call from behind her back. She tried to put a name to the voice but failed to recollect who it belonged to. Willing herself to ignore Rhaenys’ retelling of their time in Braavos, Visenya turned around to face someone she had not seen in years. _Arya? Is my mind playing a terrible trick on me? No, she is real and standing before me._

“Arya?” was all she could let out before they both collided with one another. She clung to her lost cousin, hugging her with the small fear that if she let go, Arya would be gone and never seen again. She had so many questions for her cousin and yet, could not recall any of them. Reminding herself of her duty as a Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Visenya did her best to hold back any tears so that the others would not mistake her emotions as a weakness.

Just as she was going to ask her cousin where she had been since her time in the Riverlands, Jon scooped up their still very small cousin in his arms. Visenya was overwhelmed with joy as she watched Arya eventually ease her grip around Jon’s shoulders and settle back down to the ground. Arya looked healthy and unharmed, but that did not mean she did not suffer along the way here. Visenya chuckled at the thought of Arya still being shorter than Daenerys and failing to grow much taller.

Visenya also found comfort in the fact that Arya still stuck to riding breeches and shunned the dresses preferred by the ladies of Westeros. She was still the same, fierce little northerner that held a firm grip on her small blade, gifted to her by Jon. _I wonder if she has had to use it. Has she been forced to fight her way to get where she stands now? Or was she able to hide?_

Visenya preferred the idea of Arya being able to hide herself away in peace, but she knew that was not Arya. If it was peace she sought, she would have found a way to Winterfell years ago. _I cannot wait to introduce her to my children. The girls could do with an aunt to look up to who can wield a sword._

“Where have you been? Where did you go after escaping the Brotherhood?” she finally asked after Daenerys and Rhaenys let go of Arya after sharing an embrace.

“It is a long story. I’m sure yours is as well,” Arya answered, seeming uninterested in her own tale.

“And we have plenty of time,” Jon offered, looking to their cousin for a retelling of her journey that was a mystery to them.

“When I escaped the Brotherhood, the Hound took me and we thought Robb was killed at the Twins,” Arya started. _He failed to say anything to us._ If there were not more pressing concerns, Visenya would have marched off to find the Hound and scold him for failing to inform them he had Arya with him for a time. Sandor Clegane along with Thoros of Myr and Lord Beric Dondarrion fought beside Gendry Baratheon during the battle, but she failed to see them close by. “When we reached the Bloody Gate, we learned Aunt Lysa died.”

“You did not hear of Robb’s survival along the road?” Daenerys asked in confusion.

“We avoided the roads and inns as best we could,” Arya answered. “I left the Hound to die from his wounds and found a ship to take me to Braavos.”

“Sandor Clegane is alive, Arya,” Jon informed her. Visenya recognized the evident surprise in Arya’s eyes hearing of the knight’s survival.

“I should have guessed,” Arya responded.

“Why did you go to Braavos? Why not White Harbor? Or Meereen? We would have protected you,” Visenya stated, wondering what compelled her cousin to travel to a city she had no connection to.

“I met a man who helped me once. I was stupid enough to think he was my friend. I wanted to be like him, learn from him. I was wrong. When I heard they tried to murder you and my nieces and nephews I killed them,” Arya responded in a chilling tone. _What is she talking about? The faceless men?_

“I don’t understand…,” Jon said, looking to Arya for further explanation.

“I was training to become a faceless man. I thought I could be one of them. I should have killed them all sooner,” Arya replied.

“They are not all dead. One of Varys’ spies saw someone leaving the House of Black and White before we reached Braavos,” Daenerys told Arya, who shook her heard listening.

“I was the one who left the House of Black and White alive. After, I took a ship to Maidenpool and killed the Freys before turning south. I was headed to King’s Landing until I heard Robb and Sansa were meeting at the Crossroads. Now I am here. I see you have new swords,” Arya informed them before looking down at Dark Sister and Blackfyre. _She killed the Freys? I was glad to hear them meet a fate they deserved, but this is not what I wanted._

“Dark Sister,” she informed Arya, much to her disbelief.

“You’re lying,” Arya protested.

“See for yourself,” she responded, pulling the Valyrian steel from its scabbard, handing it to Arya. “My dragon found it beyond the Wall, underneath a weirwood tree. Jon has Blackfyre. A friend, Talisa Maegyr, found it for is,” she continued, giving Robb a knowing look before turning back to Arya. She suspected there was something between Robb and Talisa before he wed Margaery. Visenya still proved to be terrible at reading the affections of men and could not confidently say whether Robb held any feelings for the Volantene lady.

“A fine sword. Who better to wield it than Queen Visenya Targaryen,” Arya mused as she felt Dark Sister’s balance before returning the sword to her with care. “Have you had the chance to use it?”

“Not really. I used it at the Battle of Castle Black, but not much since. Flying dragons over battlefields keeps one from fighting on the ground. That and bearing children,” she answered.

“What are their names? I should like to see them before returning to Winterfell,” Arya asked.

“Where to begin? I am afraid there are too many for you to remember.  My eldest daughter carries your name,” Jon informed Arya, much to her delight, before naming each of the princes and princesses of House Targaryen.

As Jon and Daenerys began to tell Arya about each of the children, Visenya found Sansa approaching with Allyria carrying her son in her arms, followed closely by Ashara Dayne and the tallest woman she had ever seen. Trying her best to sift through her memory, Visenya finally recalled stories of Brienne of Tarth. Most of what she heard came from snickering boys from the Stormlands, having a laugh at Brienne’s expense. _I would like to see them laugh at her on the battlefield. If I were to wager, my coin would be behind the lady from the Sapphire Isles._

“Sansa!” she greeted her cousin, who tried to be formal with the matter until Visenya dismissed such notions and hugged her northern kin. “You look beautiful. I wish we could have returned sooner. I hear you are now the Lady of the Eyrie.”

“I am and I heard you are a Queen and a mother,” Sansa replied in a lady-like tone reserved for court. Visenya could not figure out what exactly was different about Sansa, but she could tell her cousin was changed. 

“Yes, I can’t wait for you to see them, especially my second eldest daughter. She has your name,” she informed Sansa who finally broke her calm appearance with a shocked face.

“Me? Why would you name your daughter after me? My name isn’t Valyrian. I…,” Sansa started.

“Nor is Jon. You are family and I think it a beautiful name fit for a princess of House Targaryen,” she replied.

“I am sorry, it is just a surprise. You do me great honor,” Sansa said in a rushed apologetic tone. Visenya placed a comforting hand on her cousin’s arm to let her know that she took no offence and that she was just glad to be in the presence of her Stark kin. “What does she look like?”

“Like me, silver hair and violet eyes,” Visenya answered, thinking about what her children could possibly be up to on Dragonstone.

“I am sure she will be a beautiful princess,” Sansa said just as Darkskye let out a roar as she flew overhead. Visenya looked to the sky, following her dragon until she was gone and turned back to Sansa, who also became distracted. “They are quite the sight. I did not believe it when I first heard the stories in King’s Landing. You should fly them to the Red Keep and burn it to the ground.”

Visenya did not know how to respond, initially caught off guard by the ice in Sansa’s tone. _Arya is an assassin and Sansa has possibly been turned into a ruthless player of the game. I pray there is still joy and happiness left somewhere in their hearts. They were very different yet the same. Two, sweet innocent girls in their own way. Was that taken from them or does that happen to every girl?_

“We do not want to be rulers of the ashes,” she answered. _I would also prefer avoiding the destruction of my family’s home and the only part of the city I like._

“Just be careful. Cersei has plotted the murder of everyone who has stood in her way. We cannot let her escape now,” Sansa cautioned. Visenya could see the hatred in Sansa’s eyes for Cersei.

“She will receive no mercy from us,” Visenya added, still angered at the memory of the attempt on her family in Pentos. _If one of my children had even been harmed a little, King’s Landing would not be standing. I would burn the world for them. Let them compare me to my grandfather if it came to that._ “I heard a story about how you dealt with Littlefinger.”

“He took a gamble trusting in me, trusting in my fear. When I learned he poisoned Jon Arryn and set everything in motion, I took my chance,” Sansa replied. Visenya knew there was more she could say on the matter but decided against prying for more information.

“Well you have my thanks. I never liked nor trusted Littlefinger,” she said. _Did anyone?_ Noticing Sansa turn her attention to the gathering a few feet away, Visenya looked over to see Arya showing Jon her little sword he gifted her before leaving for Essos. She had not expected to find her cousin to still have Needle in her possession. Arya was lost to everyone for years, but still managed to keep the sword. _I should not be surprised._ “Have the lords of the Vale been troublesome?”

“Some occasionally try to test Harrold’s mettle, but I guess that is to be expected. He is young and they are old. I am sure you have encountered similar difficulties in Essos,” Sansa replied.

“It was worse in Essos. All the slavers hated us for freeing the slaves. We tried to accommodate them, but they only sensed weakness. Now they are no more,” she told her cousin, not wanting to discuss the times in Essos she wished she could forget. Trying to fill her thoughts with warm memories, Visenya reminded herself of her time in the North with Sansa. “Have you been to Winterfell since becoming the Lady of the Eyrie?”

“No, we have spent most of our time visiting the lords of the Vale, preparing for the war in the South and the North,” Sansa answered.

“Do you plan to go after we have defeated Cersei?”

“I do. I want to see my nephews and home. I do not think I will get the chance to see it again for a long time. And I want…,” Sansa said before stopping herself. Visenya could see the regretful face. _She was about to say something she did not want me to know._

“What is it?” she asked, concerned for her cousin. Visenya wanted Sansa to feel she could be honest with her and trust her with any secrets she may hold.

“Nothing, your Grace,” Sansa said, trying to turn her worried look to that of an unemotional lady.

“When it is just you and I, it is Visenya,” she reminded Sansa.

“Visenya,” Sansa said with a bit of relief in her voice.

“I hope you know you can confide in me should you need someone to talk to about anything,” she said, gently placing a hand over Sansa’s before retreating to join Jon, Daenerys, and Rhaenys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is, big battle with a good outcome to prepare us for tonight. Do not think episode 3 will be kind to many characters. Next chapter we reach King's Landing with POVs from Rhaenys, Daenerys, Jon, & Visenya. I am currently finishing up Chapter 38, so I am afraid the updates will become less frequent after chapter 38 or 39, but I promise there will not be several weeks between updates. Current outline has the fic going 41 chapters.


	37. The Rightful King & Queens of Westeros

**Rhaenys Targaryen**

Riding near the head of their army, Rhaenys shifted in the saddle atop her black Dornish stallion gifted to her by Arianne before the march on King’s Landing. They had just crossed the Blackwater Rush and now rode through the woods lying outside the walls of King’s Landing. Moonlight and Vyraxes continued to fly over their army while the rest of their dragons flew ahead to circle over King’s Landing. She hoped the sight of ten dragons over the capitol would instill fear in the people and lead to Cersei’s overthrow before they had to lift a finger. _Wishful thinking. They will disappoint as always._

Covered in the shade by the evergreen trees and the occasion maple that still held its leaves, Rhaenys rode next to her sister who looked eager to be off the Kingsroad. If they were still princesses and did not hold the responsibilities of queens, she guessed Visenya would ride off at first light on her white mare to join the Unsullied and Crownlands army camped outside the walls of the city.

Just in front of her rode Daenerys on a white mare while Jon held the reins of a great black destrier. Admiring him as best she could from behind, her aching cunt reminded her of their lovemaking before breaking camp and continuing the final leg of their march to reclaim the Iron Throne. It would not be the queenly thing to do, but Rhaenys felt the urge to reach for Jon’s hair, untie it, and steal him away so he could take her in the woods. _This morning was not enough. I am not finished with him yet._

While the Kingsguard riding in front of Jon were unmistakable with their armor and white cloaks, Jon still bore the simple armor he had since he was prince banished to Essos. He had not commissioned their blacksmiths to create extravagant armor fit for a Targaryen King. Jon shared many traits with their father, but when it came to fighting, he was more similar to a northman. His armor was understated. Leather and wool covered most of his chainmail with only his dull grey gorget with the sigil of their House visible for anyone to see. _But that is my Jon. I will not try and change him. I fell in love with a dragonlord with the blood of the First Men, not some southern tourney knight._

Ahead of their Kingsguard rode fifty of their household guard clad in the black armor of House Targaryen with black and red cloaks, holding the three-headed dragon banners fluttering in the wind. _It must be quite the sight for the smallfolk, judging by the gaping mouths and widening eyes of the boys and girls we rode past._ The dragons flying across the sky always had that effect and the direwolves contributed. No beast in the south compared to their loyal companions.

Rhaenys was relieved to wake from a deep slumber two days before when Shadow entered their tent unannounced. With him came Ghost and Silver, who travelled with Grey Worm and the Unsullied from Dragonstone. Their direwolves seemed unable to be parted from them for long. As her thoughts dwelled on the wolves, Shadow ran past her in the grass next to the Kingsroad to join Grey Wind and Ghost at the front of their army. Lord Davos had questioned the wisdom of them riding to King’s Landing on horses and not in a wheelhouse. Visenya made sure to remind him the direwolves would sniff out any man fool enough to ambush them along the way.

Peering over Jon’s shoulder, she glimpsed the end of the woodlands on either side of the Kingsroad and knew they were nearly upon the fields leading to the walls of King’s Landing. Twisting in her saddle, she smiled at Arya Stark riding beside Robb Stark, behind Lord Davos and Lord Stannis. It seemed only the direwolves, dragons, Visenya, or Jon could bring a smile to the girl’s face. Arya was never a typical lady of a great House, but Rhaenys found her to be far less cheerful and warm than what she remembered.

Arya’s direwolf was always close by her side, more protective than the other direwolves. And with that direwolf came the pack of wolves with it. Rhaenys learned from Lord Darry stories had spread across the Riverlands of wolves attacking soldiers and smallfolk alike, feasting on their flesh. She hoped some of them were exaggerated. It reminded her of their dragons in Meereen. Several goat herders had complained of them burning entire flocks and nearly killing innocent children.

Another hundred feet behind them, she could see the wheelhouses carrying Allyria, Ashara, and Arianne guarded by Winter and the dozens of knights in the immediate vicinity. While the banners of House Targaryen flew at the front of their army, Rhaenys spotted the banners of Houses Baratheon, Stark, Tyrell, Martell, Arryn, Seaworth, and Dayne nearby. Further back, one would find the banners of over one hundred more houses from across the Seven Kingdoms, marching as one army, backing Jon’s claim for the throne. _He is the one true King. The only King._

It had been five days since they had defeated the Lannister army and Golden Company. Now they marched on King’s Landing with the largest army Westeros had ever seen. _Perhaps the largest army the world has ever seen. Visenya could not recall one larger._ While only a few thousand westermen lived and all the sellswords fell, the armies loyal to House Targaryen suffered minimal losses. Their army of one hundred sixty thousand westerosi and nearly two hundred thousand Dothraki stretched for miles along the Kingsroad. Once they reached their ten thousand Unsullied and twenty thousand men from the Crownlands, it would grow even larger. _We outnumber them thirty to one and we have dragons._

When they finally emerged from the woods and the Kingsroad spilled into the open fields outside King’s Landing, Rhaenys laid eyes upon the city she had fled. The walls were a few hundred yards away but she could not miss the lion banners flying above the parapets nor the soldiers defending the city. She paid them no mind since they were out of the range of the best archers and the enemy was probably more concerned with the dragons flying overhead.

She followed their party as it veered left toward the Unsullied camp that could be seen to the north directly across from the Gate of the Gods. Now riding across the field in a light gallop, Rhaenys felt a bit freer, no longer trudging along the Kingsroad. If it were her choice, she would have flown Myrax from the battle to the Unsullied camp, but Jon insisted they ride with the army. He wanted to show they were in this fight with the lords, knights, and men of Westeros against Cersei Lannister. After riding through their camp several times, she understood his reasoning. The soldiers feared and respected him. They saw his marked-up armor and the faded scars near his eyes. _They could see he was not afraid of battle and did not sit at banquet while his men fought._

As the Unsullied camp drew closer, Rhaenys saw the soldiers of the Crownlands had pitched their tents along the treeline across the Lion Gate. She did not see the Targaryen army that her father formed and guessed they must be camped outside the Dragon Gate or Old Gate. It did not take long for them to reach the camp guarded by the silent and dutiful Unsullied whose loyalty could never be questioned. _They have served us well and they have served us true._

One by one, she passed the former slave soldiers standing outside every tent as still as statues, holding their spears and shields in their black Essosi armor. Winter was here and she could tell it by the difference in the Unsullied’s attire. Each soldier now wore sleeved tunics under their armor without the intense Essosi climate keeping them warm. _They will need far more when we march on the Wall._ The thought of the harsh northern winter chilled her bones.

Gazing ahead, Rhaenys saw a cluster of Targaryen banners standing tall in the middle of the camp around a great tent that would serve as their command tent for the siege of King’s Landing. Nearly one hundred Unsullied stood guard within and without the tent, ready for their arrival. Coming to a halt, she pulled on the reins of her Dornish stallion and brushed her hand along its coat before a young squire came to take the horse as she slid herself out of the saddle. The boy offered to help her dismount, but she was not about to let a squire aid her like some useless Westerosi lady. _I am not just a Queen. I am a Khaleesi._

“Alyn, take your horse and gather all the lords for a meeting,” Jon ordered the Blackwood boy, his new squire. The Blackwoods were a loyal House and she knew they could be trusted. As the boy turned on his heels to carry out the orders of a King, Jon continued, “Alyn, remember to find our bloodriders as well. They will be easy to find at the head of the Dothraki.”

“Yes, your Grace,” Alyn Blackwood replied with a bow before running off to his horse with some urgency.

“You like him,” she said, stepping to his side with her hands clasped. She could tell by Jon’s voice he trusted the boy from Raventree Hall.

“Aye, he is a good lad,” Jon confirmed, looking past the peaks of the tents toward the city of King’s Landing.

“Mayhaps one day, some of our sons will serve as squires,” she pondered.

“You wish to send them away already?” her sister said with disgust.

“Of course not. They can serve the Kingsguard or a knight in our household guard,” Rhaenys replied. _I do not even wish to send one of our children to foster with another lord._

“There are still two wars to fight before we can worry about any of that,” Jon added in his usual brooding tone. _Some things will never change._

“We will defeat Cersei…,” Daenerys spoke before Jon stopped her.

“It is not Cersei that worries me. The city will fall in a day. It is the Night King and his army that worry me. If we do not stop him, none of this matters. None of it,” he replied, grimacing at the mere mention of their foe from his own lips.

“And we will defeat him and the dead. I know it. I know you would never let our children grow up in a such a dark world. I have faith in you, my husband and my King,” Daenerys said, clutching Jon’s arm to get her point across.

“And I have faith in you, each of you. You are my Queens and we will do this together,” Jon affirmed, looking her and Visenya in the eyes after Daenerys. She needed to stop herself from getting lost in his Stark grey eyes he inherited from his mother. They were unique to him and different to Aegon. Jon shared several traits with Aegon, but they were quite different men. She had grown to love everything that was different about him, from his grey eyes, to his raven curls, his broody manner, his thin northern accent, and his unique talents in bed.

“Together,” Daenerys echoed before setting her lips upon his, disregarding where they stood. Rhaenys felt the compulsion to pounce him, but resisted. She would save her energy and passion for when they retired for the evening.

 

Nearly two hours after they had arrived in the Unsullied camp, the last lords began to enter the great tent to join them for the discussion of their battleplans. Rhaenys stood to Jon’s left at the head of a great table with Lord Davos on her other side. Daenerys stood between Jon and Visenya, closely examining the freshly painted map of King’s Landing. The map was commissioned specifically for the siege so more than ten men could partake in the preparations for a siege.

Next to Davos Seaworth stood Grey Worm and Ser Jorah Mormont who led the army that landed at Duskendale. Tyrion Lannister and Varys stood across from the them next to Visenya who rested her left hand on Dark Sister. Behind them stood their Kingsguard and two dozen Unsullied, ready to cut down any lord fool enough to betray them or sellsword brave enough to infiltrate the camp.

The first to join them inside the command tent were familiar faces. Her cousin Arianne Martell and Edric Dayne entered with Lord Alaric Dayne and nearly a dozen more Dornish lords. Stannis Baratheon and his son Gendry came next with their most loyal stormlords. To her surprise, she spotted Ser Sandor Clegane with them. He was still as scary as she remembered and likely just as deadly. _He would make for a good Kingsguard if we did not care for chivalry in our choices. The Hound likely wouldn’t accept if we offered anyways._

Arya Stark’s familiarity with Gendry Baratheon was the first thing to catch her eye. She had seen the two speaking with each other after the battle along the Blackwater Rush and now found them mere inches apart as Robb Stark and the northern lords entered the tent to stand beside the stormlords. She did not recall the little lady of Winterfell spending any time with the heir to Storm’s End while she was in King’s Landing. _I guess they grew close when they hid in the Riverlands. They would make a good match if Arya listened to her own heart._

Amongst the northmen, she saw the red-haired wildling, Tormund Giantsbane standing next to Robb Stark with Wyman Manderly. He was hard to miss with his distinct clothing and general lack of regard for Westerosi customs. The lords of the Seven Kingdoms may grumble, but she found his presence amusing. In a way, he almost reminded her of Dorne.

When Rakharo, Kovarro, Qhono, and Aggo stepped into the tent, she watched them walk right past the open part of the table and push Tyrion aside to stand next to Visenya. _Good, that should remind the Imp of his standing with us. At least with me._ They were able to control the Dothraki and keep them from pillaging innocent towns, but they would likely never smooth out their rougher edges.

The lords of the Reach were led by Willas Tyrell and Allyria. Rhaenys spent whatever time she had to spare with her best friend along the road to King’s Landing. Following behind Allyria were more than twenty lords, Randyll Tarly, Leyton Hightower, and Paxter Redwyne being the most prominent amongst them. The Reach had suffered the most losses at the Battle of Blackwater Rush as it was now called, but they could count themselves fortunate for their aid. If the dragons and Dothraki had not come when they did, many more knights and lords of the Reach would have been slain.

The last group of lords to join them hailed from the Vale and Riverlands. Rhaenys spotted Sansa Stark and Harrold Arryn stepping up to the table, preparing themselves to receive orders from Jon. Next to them stood the tall Blackfish, who was an imposing figure. Rhaenys knew he was an experienced battle commander and would never surrender to an enemy. With him came some of the lords who were most loyal to House Targaryen. Lords Whent, Blackwood, Darry, and Mallister were all good men, loyal to her father. _And now they are loyal to Jon._

As more lords entered the tent, the noise inside grew louder as they talked amongst themselves. Some debated what should be done to take the city. Others recounted war stories and their first kills. A few remained quiet, waiting for the meeting to begin and hear from their King. Rhaenys tried to stifle a laugh when she saw Arianne roll her eyes as she endured some of the more vocal lords exaggerating their accomplishments in battle. She even heard one lord from the Reach proclaim he had killed more than any man at the table. _The old fool should keep silent. I have killed more than them all._

“My lords,” Jon’s voice boomed through the tent, capturing each and every man’s attention. _He was born to lead. Born for this. This war and the wars to come._ Rhaenys beamed with pride at the respect he commanded and felt like a swooning maid instead of a dragon queen who instilled fear in her enemies. “Shall we begin? Grey Worm, tell us of their defenses and what you have seen.”

“Unsullied have set up here, here, and here,” Grey Worm said, pointing to positions around King’s Landing on the map. “The lords of the Crownlands are here and the Targaryen army is here, along the northern walls. The Lannisters have scorpions at every gate. The sellswords protect the sections of wall between the gates. Some have escaped in the night, but we captured them. They are well provisioned to last a siege, but their numbers are few.”

“Are their shifts along the wall regular?” Jon asked.

“No, the changing of the guard is different every day and they do not let their defenses down,” Grey Worm answered.

“Have any of the prisoners said whether they have more scorpions hidden in the city?”

“No, my King. They say they do not know. We will question them more if you command,” Grey Worm replied.

“That isn’t necessary. Do not harm the westermen we have captured. The smallfolk are doing their lords’ bidding and I will not punish them for it. As for the sellswords, hang them on the morrow. I assume they have pitch and oil to protect the gates,” Jon said.

“Yes, and more,” Grey Worm said, looking to Varys. _What terrible news does he have to give us? I can see it on Grey Worm’s face._

“Wildfire, your Grace. Cersei has it stored beneath all the markets and thoroughfares. My little birds still sing songs through the walls and if one can listen, they would know there is enough to destroy the entirety of King’s Landing,” Varys informed them. _I should have suspected this. It is not a surprise, especially after what she did to the Sparrows and Mace Tyrell._ The mere mention of wildfire sent the lords around them into an uproar.

In a matter of seconds, it was as if her evil grandfather had been entirely forgotten. Cersei was now the mad ruler who wished to burn the innocent by the thousands in order to keep her crown. Rhaenys could not stop herself from reveling in the names being given to Cersei Lannister by the lords of Westeros. The satisfaction was fleeting because it was not enough. _I would have liked them to say this to her face when she was just the Lady of Storm’s End. Cruel words are not enough however. I want her to suffer a long and painful death, filled with misery. I wish Joffrey, Tommen, and Myrcella were alive so I could take them from her before I ended her life. Make her suffer as I did._

As the lords argued amongst themselves, each with their own opinion of what must be done, Rhaenys turned to see what reaction Jon had to the news. If he was shaken or surprised by the news, he did not show it. She searched for hints of panic or worry in his eyes, but found none. All he did was remain silent in the moment, looking over the map of the city spread across the table before them. _Did he expect her to use this as a defense?_

“What are we going to do?” Daenerys asked in a hushed tone so none could hear.

“What I intended before we set foot on Dragonstone. This does not change how I plan to take the city and the Red Keep,” Jon answered in calm tone while the lords around them continued to argue. “My lords, enough!”, he yelled causing the tent to fall into silence again.

Rhaenys saw dozens of men looking to their King for answers. Every one of them wanted to storm the gates of King’s Landing. Some for glory, some for riches, some for revenge, and even some who loved to kill other men. But none of them wanted to attack a city only to be killed by wildfire like the hundreds who died in the Great Sept of Baelor. _There are not many worse ways to die than wildfire._

“This changes nothing my lords. In two days, we will begin the siege at sunrise. Before the battle begins, we will take the caches of wildfire and kill any man protecting it. After our men have secured the wildfire and taken the scorpions, our armies will receive a signal and the battle will begin. While you attack the walls of King’s Landing, our dragons will burn the men protecting the gates before moving on the walls,” Jon declared, causing some to calm their nerves.

“You have men inside the city?” Harrold Arryn questioned. _We do not have any fighting men._

“Aye,” Jon confirmed, not giving any more details on the matter. _He does not wish for any of the lords to know the secret locations of the tunnels leading in and out of King’s Landing._ “Lord Stannis, you will lead your army against the attack on the Mud Gate. This time you will not go alone. Houses Velaryon, Redwyne, Manderly, and Greyjoy will help with the siege. Princess Arianne, your army is to attack the King’s Gate. Edric, this gate is strong and will not fall easily. Other gates will fall before you will breach this one. Lord Willas, have your men lay siege to Lion Gate and Gate of the Gods. Lord Celtigar and Grey Worm will lead the force against the Gate of the Gods. Lord Brynden, take your men and attack the Old Gate. The walls between it and the Dragon Gate will be weak points for the Lannisters to defend. Move hard against that section of wall and you should gain a foothold. Robb, your army is to attack the Dragon Gate. Lord Harrold, you are to attack the Iron Gate.”

“And what of the Dothraki?” Randyll Tarly asked, looking to Jon before turning his stern gaze upon their bloodriders. His contempt for them was hard to miss. _Be careful Lord Tarly. You would do well to remember we forgave the Reach when you fought for Renly._

“My khalasar will wait for the gates to fall before entering the city. Trust me my Lords, we are better served with your men attacking the walls than the Dothraki. If you take control of a gate, sound your horns and the Dothraki will follow your men through the gates. Once we are in, the city will fall within the hour,” Jon replied, staring down the Lord of Horn Hill. Rhaenys knew he did not care for Randyll Tarly. _Especially after forcing Sam to join the Night’s Watch._ “And let me be clear my Lords, there will be no raping and pillaging. Any man, be it lord, knight, or farmer who thinks this is their chance to break the King’s laws will find himself beheaded as a criminal.”

Rhaenys was surprised to find little grumbling amongst disappointed lords who wished to partake in the plunder of King’s Landing. _I presume they have heard we do not sack cities to steal from the common folk._

“Your Grace, would it not be wise to wait a few more days to build siege towers to protect our men attacking the walls?” Lord Yohn Royce asked, concerned for the men who would use ladders to climb the walls.

“We attack in two days my lord, no later. With the wildfire underneath the city, I will not give Cersei more time to make more. Taking the walls will be tough, but they do not have the numbers to adequately defend the entire city,” Jon told the Lord of Runestone, who still bore a wary look. “Trust me Lord Royce, when they see the dragons burning the men fighting with them, you will find taking the city far easier.”

_Jon does not lie. Every city we have taken fell moments after the dragons burned the defenders. What man wants to die like that? For a losing cause?_

“Now if that is all my lords, leave us. I must speak with your liege lords and my small council,” Jon said, waiting for the lords to empty out of the tent for them to discuss further matters that did not need to spread across their camp like wildfire. _There are likely spies within our ranks, despite the advantage we hold._ Rhaenys could see the disappointment on some of the lords’ faces. Lords Tarly, Hightower, and Royce looked to be the most displeased with their dismissal.

“You do not have any men in the city, do you?” Robb Stark said.

“No,” Jon replied.

“You plan to use the secret tunnels leading into the city,” Stannis added with no doubt in his voice. “Who will lead the attack?”

“I will,” Jon said. Immediately, her neck snapped to look at him. She felt like she was ready to drive a dagger into his chest. _You will not. I will not allow it._ As her mind raced further, searching for the words she would scold him with, she realized her fists were clenched with rage. Reminding herself to keep a united front and not contradict Jon in front of the others, she looked to Daenerys and Visenya.

Daenerys looked calm to the outside world, concentrating on the map of King’s Landing before her without blinking an eye. Rhaenys could see underneath the façade. Daenerys was fuming just as much as she was. _More so, even._ Her sister on the other hand had a mischievous look on her face. _She plans to join him. The fool, both of them!_

“Jaime knows the tunnels, my King,” Ser Arthur spoke up behind her.

“Aye, but he does not know all of them. I will take one hundred of our best Unsullied and lead them into the city. The captains will lead the attacks on the scorpions, then the gates. Varys will point some of our men in the direction of the wildfire caches. I will lead the party taking the Red Keep,” Jon said. _I do not like this. Why is he risking this? For the people of King’s Landing? Fuck them. They mean nothing to me. Not really._

“I’ll go with you,” Gendry Baratheon volunteered, standing next to his father.

“I will as well,” Robb Stark followed.

“You will lead the attack on the Dragon Gate. I trust you more than any of the Northern lords to follow my orders,” Jon ordered his cousin, who looked ready to argue the matter before stopping himself. Jon was no longer just Robb’s cousin who was a Prince of House Targaryen. He was his King and Robb was not going to refuse his order in front of others. After glaring at Robb, Rhaenys noticed Jon give the same look to Edric Dayne who she knew would likely offer his sword on such an endeavor.

“Your Grace, taking the Red Keep will not be easy. Jaime will be expecting an attack from within. Allow me to lead the party inside Maegor’s Holdfast. I am the Lord Commander of your Kingsguard, leave this to me,” Ser Barristan Selmy insisted, with eyes pleading for Jon to change his mind.

“I value your counsel Ser Barristan, but this is something I must see through,” Jon replied.

“What if Cersei has wildfire beneath the Red Keep? It is too great a risk,” Ser Jorah added. It was apparent to Rhaenys their loyal knight disagreed with Jon’s plan.

“My sister would see King’s Landing burn to the ground if it meant she could rule the ashes, but she would not risk her own life,” Tyrion spoke up without his usual cup of wine in hand.

“Lord Tyrion is right, Cersei would not risk it. But do not underestimate her, she is laying a trap for us,” Sansa Stark declared.

“We know her trap. She plans to burn the city to the ground once our men have breached the walls,” Visenya replied.

“Cersei is not stupid, she knows we would find out about the wildfire,” Sansa argued. _I beg to differ._ “She will have other plans for us. Other traps she wants us to fall into.”

“There are risks in every battle. We will be careful and move slowly. The attack will not begin until the wildfire is secured. If Cersei has more planned, it cannot be worse than the wildfire,” Jon said.

“Many of the traitors will flee when the battle begins and hide in the city, no doubt,” Stannis raised an expected issue. They had already discussed this problem on Dragonstone. After conquering Essos, they had become all too familiar with foes disappearing from the battlefield into the populace. _They can hide from men, but they cannot hide from a spider._

“Many already have my Lord, but my little birds will find them all,” Varys promised. Stannis held a skeptical face, never trusting the Master of Whispers.

Cersei was not the only one that would face the King’s justice. The Spider had already identified the gold cloaks and men loyal to House Lannister that were involved in the slaying of Rhaenys’ father, brother, and uncle. _They will all die, either by the sword or fire._

“We will speak further on the siege tonight my lords. Now, I must speak with my Queens alone,” Jon dismissed their council and most loyal lords. Everyone standing around the table bowed their heads before withdrawing from the tent, leaving just themselves and their Kingsguard, who stepped to the corners of the tent to give them some privacy.

“Why are you trying to be a hero? We have come this far and you want to risk your life? For what? Cersei cannot win,” Daenerys tore into their husband, furious with his decision. Rhaenys was glad she was not the only one to hold the sentiment.

“I am not trying to be a hero. I must do this. I know the passages under King’s Landing better than any. And it is I who must see this through. They murdered Father. They murdered Egg. I will not sit back and let someone else carry out justice,” Jon responded. Rhaenys could see in his eyes there would be no persuading him from this course of action. _Even if I wanted, he cannot turn back now. It would make him look weak._

“You are being a fool. You aren’t thinking this through,” Daenerys protested, squeezing his hand.

“I have thought this through. I know the risks. If I do not lead the attack on the Red Keep, Cersei could escape or worse, burn King’s Landing to the ground,” Jon replied in a calming voice he usually turned to when he wanted to dispel any fears they had.

“No, you haven’t. What about us? What about your Queens? I cannot live in this world without you. I refuse to. And what of our children? They need their father more than the realm needs its King. You would risk us, just so you can bury your sword in the Lannisters and kill the Mountain?” Daenerys said with unshed tears in her eyes.

“Its not that simple and you know it. I must see this done so we can prepare for the real war,” Jon answered.

“The real war will not matter if you are dead,” Rhaenys finally spoke up, staring into his grey eyes as he shifted his gaze from Daenerys to herself.

“What kind of King would I be if I am not willing to risk my life to fight our enemies? Why would any lord follow me in the war against the Night King if I sit back and let men fight on my behalf to hand me a throne,” Jon said.

“You have fought in enough battles. You owe them nothing. Fly with us. You are a dragon. Let other men fight on the ground,” Rhaenys said, knowing her words would fail. _I have to say something._

“I have made my decision that I think is best. I know you disagree, but I must follow what I believe,” he said as he turned his back to them in frustration, watching the Unsullied march past the tent in their well-disciplined formations.

“I will go with you,” Visenya declared, moving herself to Jon’s side, trying to convince him with her warmth and soothing presence.

“No, you will fly Silverclaw and lead the attack upon the walls. You are great with a sword, but you will make a greater difference in the air. When our armies breach the gates, I am counting on you. If I have not already cleared out the Red Keep, I will need your help defeating the men guarding its walls,” Jon answered, looking at each of them.

“But I can…,” her sister tried to argue, but failed to change Jon’s mind when he cut in.

“No, Visenya. I will have our Kingsguard restrain you if I must. You are either staying in our tent or flying on Silverclaw. You are not going to fight on the ground with me,” Jon said.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Visenya said.

“I would,” Jon said before pulling Visenya in for a long kiss they both struggled to end. “I love you and I will not risk my Queen’s life.”

“And I love you,” Visenya replied, accepting she would not win this argument rather quickly. Rhaenys was surprised at her lack of protest. _Does she suspect she is with child? Or is she thinking of our children? I would not take my chances on the ground. Seeing them again means everything in the world to me. More than any throne or keep._

As Visenya nuzzled herself into Jon’s chest with her arms wrapped around his torso, Rhaenys felt his warm, calloused hand on her wrist. Jon pulled her closer and she did not fight his embrace, leaning her head on his shoulder as Daenerys did on his other side. Closing her eyes, she prayed they did not make it this far only to fail now.

 

“Do you remember the time we ran off into these woods to hide?” she asked as they stood at the edge of a small field within the woodlands outside King’s Landing. Their dragons had made the field their lair since the armies camped outside the walls of the city prevented them from finding the space they required.

“Aye, when we started the progress through the Westerlands. I seem to recall it was your idea,” Jon replied as she leant back into his chest as she watched Daenerys and Visenya spend time with their dragons. Rhaenys savored the moment while she could, loving Jon’s strong arms wrapped around her middle.

“Father was furious. I thought he was going to kill me until you and Egg took the blame,” she recalled, remembering hiding from the Kingsguard and household guard sent to search for them.

“I always hated seeing you cry,” Jon said, gently kissing the crook of her neck.

“I pray our sons are half as honorable as you and Egg,” Rhaenys said.

“They will be better,” Jon promised as she glimpsed Kios diving toward the field from high in the sky before leveling out and sweeping over the trees.

Rhaenys was going to bring up another memory from their childhood regarding the tourney grounds not far away until she heard the sound of armor and boots crunching the leaves behind them. As Jon eased his grasp around her waist, she twisted her head to find Ser Barristan approaching with Alyn Blackwood behind him.

“Your Graces, Cersei Lannister sent a rider into our camp under the banner of peace. She wishes to meet in an hour,” Ser Barristan Selmy told them.

“Does she think us fool enough to meet her, surrounded by Lannister soldiers?” she asked.

“No, my Queen. She wishes to meet outside the Gate of the Gods,” Barristan answered.

“Very well Ser Barristan, ready the horses. We will hear what she has to say,” Jon ordered, turning to face her as Ser Barristan left to bring them their horses for the short ride back to their camp.

“What is her aim?” she asked, not trusting Cersei. _She knows she cannot win a battle against our dragons or army._

“I do not know,” Jon replied. She could see he was trying to imagine the possibilities that would drive Cersei to meet with them.

“What is it?” she heard Daenerys ask, walking from the dragons toward them with Visenya at her side.

“Cersei wishes to meet with us,” she responded.

“She truly has gone mad. She thinks we will bend the knee, surrender our forces, and abandon our claim on the Iron Throne?” Visenya said, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Not likely. I am sure she thinks she has some clever plot to defeat us,” Daenerys replied. _Cersei is many things. Clever is not one of them._

After Ser Barristan Ser Barristan brought them their horses, they rode back to their camp, nearly half a mile from where their dragons rested. Riding with some haste, Rhaenys found the tents near the edge of the woods abandoned. Striding past tent after tent, she finally saw their Unsullied had formed their phalanxes on the field between their position and the Gate of the Gods. To her left, she could see thousands of men from the Riverlands with the Dothraki behind them in reserve. Thousands more from the Reach stood to her right, prepared for an early battle.

For as many men stood on the fields outside King’s Landing, Rhaenys found it eerily quiet as she rode her horse past their Unsullied toward the open gate. The silence stretching across their army was only broken by the sound of their dragons flying above, protecting them from any soldier brave enough to attack them.

Looking ahead, she laid her eyes upon nearly a dozen soldiers clad in the typical armor of House Lannister with seven knights who must have formed Cersei’s Queensguard. Rhaenys did not recognize the armor, but she did know one ofmthe men was the Mountain. Gregor Clegane was unmistakable. She had yet to see a man of his size. _He should be dead. My brother had him defeated. My uncle had him defeated. If Jon does not kill him first, Myrax will turn him to ashes._

Next to Cersei sat a man she did not recognize. He was old but not frail. _This must be her Hand, Qyburn._ Behind them, sat several lords of the Westerlands. Rhaenys recognized Lords Roland Crakehall, Melwyn Sarsfield, Damon Marbrand, Garth Greenfield, and Gerold Payne. The others, she did not know. _These men will never see their homes again._

Taking note of each lord still standing behind Cersei, Rhaenys could not stop herself from setting her eyes upon Ser Jaime Lannister. It hurt to see him, sitting beside Cersei, against herself and House Targaryen. She trusted him more than any man who did not have the name Targaryen or Martell. Despite what everyone said, calling him Kingslayer and oathbreaker, she always defended him and said he had honor. _How can he still stand there with her after what she has done? I thought he loved me._

Once she was close enough to see the green in Jaime’s eyes, she watched as he locked eyes with her. Rhaenys could not tell if it was regret, shame, or her own imagination she saw in his eyes. _Is there still anything left of the knight I knew? Is he still the knight who would have given his life for me? A man I would have trusted to protect my children?_

When Jaime ducked his head in what looked to her to be shame, she caught Cersei staring daggers at her. As she locked eyes with Cersei Lannister, Rhaenys felt the rage course through her body. It consumed her and she would never let it go as long as Cersei lived.

“King Jon,” Jaime spoke first, finally face to face with his rightful king.

“Ser Jaime,” Jon responded before turning to Cersei. Rhaenys was still staring down Cersei, refusing to be the first to yield. “Why are we here?”

It was then Cersei finally shifted her focus to Jon, failing to hide the pompous smirk on her face. _She thinks herself clever. She always has._ “We have come to offer peace. Send your Dothraki savages and slave soldiers back across the Narrow Sea. Tell your army to lay down their arms and return to their lands. Bend the knee my lord and swear fealty to House Lannister and the rightful Queen of Westeros,” Cersei answered.

“My husband is no lord and you are not the rightful Queen of Westeros,” Rhaenys replied, wishing Myrax were there to burn Cersei now.

“No? I sit the Iron Throne and rule King’s Landing. Bend the knee and you may take the black to live out the rest of your days on the Wall. I will even let your whores and children sail for Essos to live in exile,” Cersei replied, looking at herself, Visenya, and Daenerys.

“You call for peace and call my Queens whores? You expect me to bend the knee after having my father and brother butchered? Here are my terms. Surrender the city. Tell your men to lay down their arms and open the gates. Do that and I shall give you a quick death. I will even let Ser Jaime take the black. The Wall will need good fighters for the Great War,” Jon said furiously, giving Cersei his terms.

Cersei laughed at the notion of surrendering herself to a merciful death. _She is mad. She thinks she can still defeat us. Has she not seen the dragons? Has she not seen our army and ships? We can still call on an army of free folk numbering over one hundred thousand._

“You refuse these terms?” Daenerys asked, holding her head high, keeping the white mare underneath her steady.

“Your terms are a terrible joke, of course I refuse them,” Cersei answered, flashing Rhaenys an evil smirk before facing Jon again.

“Cersei, do not be unreasonable. You cannot win this war. Take the…,” Tyrion pleaded, seated on his small horse next to Lord Varys and Lord Davos Seaworth.

“You have one day to decide. If I do not have an answer by midday tomorrow, every man sworn to House Lannister will be met with fire and blood,” Jon vowed, making sure the lords of the Westerlands behind Cersei heard his warning. Cersei did not flinch, but she could see the fear brimming in the eyes of the old lords who found themselves on the losing side.

When Jon pulled on the reins of his destrier to head back to their camp, Rhaenys turned to Jaime, pleading with her eyes for him to switch sides before making himself an enemy of House Targaryen forever. With all her heart, she believed he was still loyal to her. She could never imagine him bringing harm to herself or her family. _Even after all he has done, I still believe in him. He is not the Kingslayer or oathbreaker the realm claims him to be. I know it._

Jaime only returned a weary face, resigned to the idea that he would stand with his sister and lover. Rhaenys’ heart sank when she realized he would not come to her side and pledge her his sword. _I would have stood for him. Jon would send him to the Wall, but I would not allow it. I would keep him as our Kingsguard. He has never fought us._

Just as she began to turn back for camp, Cersei spoke, “You will die tomorrow, screaming like your father and brother. After Ser Gregor kills your husband, he will take his time with you and if I am merciful, your children will die a quick death.”

“Don’t,” Visenya whispered, clutching her arm, preventing her from riding up to Cersei and attacking her there, without a weapon in hand. _That evil cunt. I will see her suffer. I swear it, to the old gods and the new._

Unable to look at Cersei Lannister anymore without feeling murderous rage consume her being, Rhaenys turned her stallion around to ride back to their camp. As she caught up with Jon who was only a few paces ahead, she began to hear Tyrion arguing for a chance to negotiate a peaceful surrender of King’s Landing. Part of her was glad he did not hear what Cersei had to say about their father and brother. _I have the temper, but he is not one to tolerate the sullying of our father or brother’s memory. Especially from the woman who ordered their deaths._

“Please, your Grace, let me speak with my sister. If she will listen to anyone, it is a Lannister. You have avoided burning cities to the ground and slaughtering the innocent by the thousands. Let me go and reason with them. If you were to let her live…,” Tyrion argued before Jon cut him off.

“I told you when you swore fealty to me, I would not let her live. She had my father and brother murdered. She had my uncle beheaded and worked with the men who ordered the death of my children. You are mad if you think I will let her live,” Jon promised, earning a grimace on the face of Tyrion. _I don’t care what Jon says. He is still cares for her. He only killed his father because Tywin took away his power and his whore._

“Fine, but let me try to persuade her to see reason. Not for me or my brother and certainly not my sister, but for the people of King’s Landing. Let me talk sense into her and Jaime,” Tyrion pleaded.

“You know she could have you killed if you go behind those walls,” Jon stated.

“I do,” Tyrion answered with a solemn look. Something about his face and the words he spoke seemed off to Rhaenys.

“Go before I change my mind,” Jon gave their advisor leave to take up a hopeless cause. _Not our advisor, Jon’s advisor._

“Your Grace,” Tyrion gave a slight bow before riding back toward the Gate of the Gods, trying to catch Cersei Lannister and her party before they entered the city.

Rhaenys waited until there was some distance between them and their advisors who rode with them. It was only their Kingsguard she trusted to hear her opinion of the men who served them. “Why do you trust him? He still cares for his family. When the time comes, and he has to choose, Targaryen or Lannister, he will choose Cersei.”

“Tyrion is a good man. He knows who Cersei is. He will not betray us to side with her. More than most, he knows the suffering her rule would bring to the Seven Kingdoms,” Jon argued. Rhaenys could tell he was not convinced and believed in his friend. _I trust Jaime more than Tyrion, but I am not going to try and win him to our side now. He has chosen his path._

“Rhaenys, he has never given us reason to distrust him yet,” Daenerys added.

“You can do as you like, but do not say I did not warn you. He cannot be trusted,” she replied, shaking her head, trying to understand why she was the only one who saw Tyrion’s true nature.

 

 

**Daenerys Targaryen**

“That will be all. Leave us,” Daenerys ordered their new Dothraki handmaids who were lighting the last of the candles inside their tent. She was happy to have them around to practice her Dothraki, but the night grew old and the time left to them was precious. On the morrow, preparations for the siege of King’s Landing would begin and the battle would commence at midday.

“Yes, Khaleesi,” Vithi, the eldest of her handmaidens replied, pulling the other two with her. Once they were alone, Daenerys withdrew to the chest in the corner of their tent next to her wardrobe. Slowly, she began to remove the rings from her fingers, each cherished gifts Jon had given her over the years. The last one she removed was her favorite, a silver banded ring with a ruby encircled by dragons. Daenerys could still recollect the moment Jon gifted the ring to her when they returned from Winterfell to the Red Keep.

While the lords of Westeros seemed to enjoy the feast they had just left, Daenerys did not have the appetite for the food served to them. Her thoughts were too occupied with the battle to come and Jon’s plan for taking the city. All she could think of was the peril he would find himself in. _He takes too great of risks with his life. Why can he not see that? He is the perfect King otherwise._

Part of her wished to avoid conflict altogether, but she could not lie to herself when she found Tyrion returning to their camp without success. It was a relief Cersei would not take the easy way out. Daenerys did not want the innocent of King’s Landing nor her men to die, but she also wanted Cersei to die by fire. _A quick death by the sword, the old way, would not be justice. Not for her._

As Daenerys removed her necklace and placed it carefully in her jewelry box, she began to fumble with the silver three-headed dragon linking the chain across her chest that held her small red cape on her right shoulder. With the cool airs rolling south in winter, she preferred the slim yet nonrevealing dresses Missandei had commissioned for her, Visenya, and Rhaenys.

“Here, allow me,” Jon insisted, stepping behind her, slowly reaching over her shoulder to unlatch the chain. As the cape fell to the ground, pooling at her feet, Jon proceeded to begin unlacing the back of her dress. She always enjoyed his strong hands roaming over her body, discarding whichever dress she wore for the day. This time was no different as she basked in his warmth while he took his time removing her clothes, placing gentle kisses on the skin he exposed.

With nearly all her clothes discarded, finding only her smallclothes left clinging to her body, Daenerys felt the heat build between her legs. Jon carefully snaked his hand under her smallclothes, pulling the silk carefully down her legs until she was as naked as her first nameday. While turning around to face him, she caught Rhaenys already undressed, aiding Visenya in the removal of her own dark grey dress similar to her own.

Daenerys looked down to discover Jon still on one knee, admiring her body, worshipping it with his eyes roaming over her sex. Before she could instigate their lovemaking, Jon slid his hands around her thighs, slowly making his way to her ass. Carefully kneading her cheeks, she finally let out a breath she had been holding as he pulled her closer, throwing one leg over his shoulder.

Just as she liked it, Jon began to taste her wet folds, preparing her for her undoing. Instinctively, she ran her hand through his raven curls, digging her nails into his scalp, searching for the small leather tie keeping his hair back. As soon as his tongue began to flick her nub, all thoughts and concerns for the realm disappeared. The world was lost to her. It was just herself and Jon. All that mattered to Daenerys in these moments was Jon, Rhaenys, and Visenya.

“There, my love, right there…,” her voice began to falter as her heart raced and her body took over. Her small whimper turned into uncontrolled sobs as Jon continued his efforts. His attention was solely focused on her, flicking her clit, again and again, pushing her to the edge. But every time she felt her body would collapse and her legs would give out, he withdrew, tending to her folds. She continued in her mother tongue, “Don’t stop. Please, Jon, don’t…”

Her words were the proper encouragement as his tongue began to relentlessly lap her nub. Daenerys began to lose control of her senses as she cried nonsensical words in Valyrian, repeating Jon’s name as her clit throbbed with pleasure. The further he went, the harder her nails dug into his hair as her back arched into Rhaenys who came behind her, sucking on her pulse while kneading her breast.

Inching closer and closer to her peak, Daenerys peered through hooded eyelids to find Visenya leaning down to take her other breast in her mouth. She was overcome with pleasure, finding it hard to hold back her sobs. Every second, Jon continued to please her as she liked, circling her clit before strumming it, faster and faster with his tongue until her body finally relented. The shudder ran through her body, softening her legs, causing her to cry out.

Daenerys feared she might make the entire camp aware of what was going on in their tent until Visenya left her breast to capture her lips. Her limp body was only supported by Jon’s firm grip on her ass and Rhaenys’ arms carefully snaked around her torso. It was hard to come down from her ecstasy as Jon continued to lap her folds, taking his fill of her juices. His care and affection only seemed to make her wetter and crave him more.

“What…what are you still doing…with your clothes on?” she questioned while trying to find her breath, panting from what he just put her through. Even after being wed for six years and making love to each other longer, Jon still found a way to make her feel like it was their first time. Their love never became dull nor uneventful. He knew how to make her happy and breathe fire into their passion. _We were born for each other, I know it._

“As my Queen commands,” Jon answered, standing on his feet, slowing removing his black tunic with traces of red woven in. Daenerys fought the urge to pounce him there and take his lips to taste herself on him. As he began to unlace his breeches, she felt Rhaenys and Visenya pull her back towards their bed.

Stepping backwards, Daenerys felt the backs of her legs collide with the edge of the bed. While she admired her husband discard his breeches and small clothes to reveal his throbbing cock, Daenerys settled onto the furs spread across the bed. She was covered in her own sweat, nearly exhausted from what Jon had done to her as she settled in, spreading her legs to beg for his entrance.

On her back, she was defenseless to stop Visenya from taking her place on top of her, sealing their lips as their tongues tasted one another. Visenya began to trace her tongue along her bottom lip, savoring her taste while Daenerys ran one hand through Visenya’s complex braids as her other hand kneaded her ass. While they continued with their passionate kisses, Daenerys felt smooth hands brace her thighs, pushing them impossibly far apart. The hands could only belong to Rhaenys.

Visenya began to moan into her mouth, occasionally biting Daenerys’ plump lips. She did not mind, rather enjoying the control Visenya lost as Rhaenys feasted on her cunt. Caught by surprise, Daenerys felt Rhaenys slide two of her fingers across her lips and around her nub before plunging into her cunt. Still pleasuring her sister, Visenya began to extract pleasure from both of them as Daenerys began to lose herself with Visenya.

Rhaenys was no match for Jon, but that did not mean she could not make Daenerys sob her name and cry out in pleasure. The build up was slow, yet exciting until she felt Rhaenys withdraw from her cunt. Visenya broke their sealed lips, opening her eyes. Daenerys found amethyst eyes staring back at her, as if asking why Rhaenys had stopped with her as well.

“Rhaenys, what are you…” Daenerys started until she felt Jon’s cock hit her core, gently rubbing across her wet folds before he found his place inside her. Her breath hitched as Jon plunged into her, finding the back of her walls. “Jon, faster, please, you must...”

The sweat began to roll down her brow as Jon thrust into her cunt, steadily quickening his pace as his large, calloused hands gripped her soft, wet thighs. The faster he went, the more she cried his name and begged for more in High Valyrian. She loved the feeling that spread through her body as he fucked her, making her cunt wet, her heart pound like a beating drum, and her toes curl as she was sent closer to her climax.

Wanting to prolong their lovemaking, Daenerys fought her body, trying not to come undone by Jon’s cock filling her. Her fight was pointless when Rhaenys pushed Visenya up, straddling her stomach. Daenerys caught a glimpse over Visenya’s shoulder, seeing Rhaenys pulling Jon in for a kiss. _I am going to kill her if she distracts him._

Her fears were unwarranted as Jon continued thrusting his hips into hers while taking Rhaenys’ breasts in his mouth. It was then Daenerys felt Rhaenys’ finger play with her clit, causing her to throw her head back into the soft pillows behind her. Daenerys felt her walls begin to close around Jon’s member as her eyelids felt heavy, beginning to see stars in her vision. Rocking her hips as best she could with Rhaenys on top of her, she came for her King, crying with his name on her lips.

Her satisfaction only doubled when she felt him shake without control, spilling inside her, coating her walls with his seed. Visenya continued to lavish her breasts and suck on her pulse as Daenerys felt a small tear of pure ecstasy roll from her eye down her cheek. She was utterly spent, but not tired enough to not partake in the rest of the night.

Gathering her breath, Daenerys closed her eyes and relaxed as Rhaenys and Visenya took the empty spaces on the bed next to her. She likely would have fallen asleep if not for the soft hands caressing her cooling skin. When her heartbeat returned to its normal rate, she opened her eyes to find Jon hovering over her limp body, admiring everything about her. When his eyes left her beating chest and locked with her own, his smile still bore the appearance of a man in love.

“I love you,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss her. Their lovemaking was filled with passion and fire. The kisses he laid on her lips were something else. They took their time, cherishing one another. Daenerys felt as if the rest of the world was closed off to them and it was only the four of them in that bed.

“And I you,” she replied when she looked upon his face. She would have been content with spending the rest of the night, staring into each other’s eyes, speaking of what they shared. _But that is not us, not yet anyways. We are dragons and the hour is not too late._

When Jon reached his hand down to her cheek, she nuzzled into his caress, wishing they could turn their backs on their responsibilities. _If we were not Targaryens, I would give it all up. The Seven Kingdoms, Essos, all of it. A simple life on Dragonstone with Jon, Visenya, Rhaenys, and our family is all I would need. Everything else in this life means nothing compared to them._

Lost in her thoughts, Daenerys felt Visenya stir beside her with a leg moving up and down her own. She could sense her restlessness as Visenya sought to relieve the tension inside her after watching Jon make love to herself. Knowing she could not keep him all to herself, Daenerys pushed Jon over with all her strength to the small space between herself and Visenya.

Straddling his hips, she began to roll her own, coaxing his cock to harden beneath her. The feeling of his cock pressing against her folds was almost enough to tempt her into changing her mind. Finding the will deep within herself, Daenerys stood from Jon’s lap, admiring his cock still covered in her wetness.

Turning to Visenya, she caught a mischievous look on her face. Daenerys knew what that meant as her eyes followed Visenya moving toward Jon, taking his member in hand. Settling next to Rhaenys on Jon’s other side, they watched as Visenya slowly stroked their husband’s cock. She felt the small kisses left on her skin before Rhaenys came to rest her chin on her shoulder as Visenya took Jon in her mouth.

Daenerys admired Visenya’s skill, bobbing her head before the occasional withdrawal to swirl her tongue around the head of his cock. Every time Visenya did so, Daenerys thought Jon may lose his self-control and spill into her face. As Visenya dove into Jon again, sucking his cock, Jon began to run his hand through her braid as he thrust his hips upward, seeking more pleasure. “Gods, Senya!” Jon growled. _She got the reaction she wanted, as usual._

Visenya lifted her head, releasing Jon’s cock from her lips with an audible pop before getting off her knees to stand above him. While Visenya sunk down onto Jon, Daenerys noticed Rhaenys slither over to sit on their King’s face. _Who should I go to? Rhaenys or Visenya?_

With Visenya rolling her hips with Jon buried inside her, Daenerys turned to Rhaenys who gently rode Jon’s face. Throwing a leg over her husband’s torso, she snaked her arms around Rhaenys. One hand found one of her large breasts while the other trailed over her small patch of hair to find the apex of her entrance.

The sound of Visenya’s skin colliding with Jon’s began to fill the room as she bounced on his cock behind Daenerys. Keeping her focus on Rhaenys, Daenerys split two of her fingers around her nub, coaxing everything she could out of her while Jon lapped her folds. Rhaenys’ moans were soft and gentle, but Daenerys knew better. Pressed against her body, she could feel the heavy beat of Rhaenys’ heart as her climax was nearing.

“Don’t you dare stop Dany,” Rhaenys threatened in a faltering voice as her head fell back onto Daenerys’ shoulder. Knowing not to upset the one of them with the hottest temper, she circled Rhaenys’ clit with greater passion while still kneading the breast in her hand. The sight of her hardened nipples was mouth-watering, even for herself. _I am glad Jon is focused on her cunt. If he laid eyes on her breasts now, he may lose his control and fuck her without seeing to our needs first._

“Oh, right there Jon. Keep going, harder Jon. Harder…,” Visenya commanded in Valyrian through her sobs of ecstasy. _She is losing her senses. She is the one in control, not our Jon._

Just as she heard Visenya ride Jon as fast as she could, she felt Rhaenys reach her peak. The spasm cutting through her body was unmistakable as she held Rhaenys close to her chest, now resting both hands on her breasts. She was sure of it. Jon was getting his fill of her while Rhaenys came down from her high.

“Yes, oh gods, Jon…,” Visenya let out a soft scream through her moans. The collision of her thighs and ass with Jon’s lap began to slow and Daenerys knew she was finally exhausted from riding their husband’s cock. Burying her face in Rhaenys’ soft hair, Daenerys inhaled the scented oils Rhaenys preferred, mixed with the smell of their sex filling the tent. _This is perfect. We should spend the next day in this tent. The war for the Iron Throne can wait._

The feeling of Jon’s hands resting over her own caused her to remove her grasp on Rhaenys’ breasts. _I cannot keep them all to myself._ Feeling parched and exhausted herself, Daenerys slid off of Jon and rolled out of their bed, settling her feet on the great Myrish rug covering the ground below. Searching the tent for their water, she finally found some in a glass pitcher on the table directly across their bed.

As she made her way from their bed, she heard a yip from what sounded like Rhaenys and looked over her shoulder to find Jon on top of her, worshipping her chest. Visenya was already coming her way, likely in need of a drink herself. Daenerys filled the first glass in her hand before giving it to Visenya.

“Thank you,” Visenya said before lifting the glass to her lips, quenching her thirst while calming her breathing from her previous exertions. Filling the next glass to the brim, Daenerys let the cool water fall down her throat. “I am thoroughly spent.”

“Good, you can sleep while Rhaenys and I make love to our husband,” she jested, giving Visenya a knowing look.

“Do not jest, I may just steal him away for the night to spite the both of you,” Visenya replied, taking another drink before leaving the glass on the table to return to their bed.

Turning on her heels to return to Jon, she found Rhaenys gently riding Jon with her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms around his neck. His face was buried in her chest, undoubtedly taking his time with each nipple on his lips. Daenerys felt a sting of jealousy course through her. _I love it when he does that to me._

After a dozen steps across the red Myrish rug, Daenerys climbed back into their bed, pushing Jon on his back with Visenya’s help. Disappointment was apparent on Rhaenys’ face until Visenya took Jon’s place, licking the breasts he had abandoned. With him flat on his back and Visenya keeping Rhaenys occupied as she continued to ride Jon, Daenerys laid on top of him.

They both smiled at each other as he tucked a loose curl behind her ear before pulling her down to his lips. She loved it as he ran his hand through her hair while his tongue searched every inch of her mouth, tasting her. The touch of his hard muscles underneath her, warming her skin, meant the world. No matter what terrible news came to them or what kind of day she was having, when it was just them like this, she was happy.

As Rhaenys began to fuck him harder, he delved deeper into her mouth, battling her tongue. She craved his taste and the feeling he stirred within her. While his firm, but caring hand kept her from escaping, his other hand slid from the small of her back to her ass. Relieving her tension with the ever so slight rock of her hips, rubbing her sex against his chiseled stomach caused Jon to take notice. In return, his hand kneaded and caressed her cheeks, causing her to get even wetter for him.

Tracing her tongue across his full lips, Daenerys felt his hand go further. She felt his finger slide past her rosebud along the sensitive skin leading to her cunt. He continued to play with her, driving her mad with his teasing. “Not tonight,” she whispered against his lips. “We do not have the Essosi oils with us.”

“Oh fuck,” he growled, not angered by her words, but ready to spill as Rhaenys continued to fuck him until he was ready to cum with her. Daenerys felt his muscles tense underneath and soon felt him thrust his hips, hopelessly trying to match his sister’s pace.

Occasionally, she heard Rhaenys’ ecstasy silenced by Visenya sealing their lips. Despite her best efforts, Daenerys knew her efforts were for naught as Rhaenys continued to ride Jon. Their bed only stilled when Rhaenys took the time to roll her hips and savor the feeling of Jon’s cock sheathed to the hilt inside her before bouncing on top of him again.

Sensing he was about to cum, Daenerys kissed him with greater fury, accidently biting his lip. They both laughed at her action, as if she was some innocent maid who had just given up her maidenhead. Parted for only a few seconds, Jon pulled her back down to taste her lips like they were the finest of Arbor golds.

As Rhaenys began to climax, writhing on top of Jon, Daenerys felt his hands grip her skin a little tighter. She knew he was close and so did Rhaenys. Recovering from her orgasms, Daenerys knew Rhaenys was pushing herself a little further, making sure Jon would cum for her. When he did, she felt his satisfaction as he sucked on her bottom lip while Rhaenys let out a pleasing moan.

All four of them were covered in sweat from their lovemaking as Daenerys rested her head on Jon’s chest, staring as Visenya lying next to her. She felt Rhaenys on her other side, resting a hand on the small of her back while snaking a leg over Jon’s, rubbing against her own.

“I don’t want tomorrow to come,” Visenya broke the silence, sadness filling her voice.

“I know love, but it must,” Jon answered. _Not just for reclaiming our throne. Tomorrow must come so we can fight the Great War, with a united Westeros. As long as Cersei lives, she will plot to undermine us and will take advantage of the threat beyond the Wall._

“Promise me you will return to us. I do not want you dying trying to save the people of King’s Landing. They do not deserve it. They did not deserve Father. They did not deserve Egg. And they do not deserve you as their King,” Rhaenys said, failing to hide her contempt for the people living within the city walls. The stories they heard of the smallfolk’s admiration for Joffrey only intensified Rhaenys’ mistrust of the people. _They have proven themselves easily manipulated by the worst of people since the city was built._

“There is good and evil everywhere in this world. King’s Landing, the North, Dorne, Volantis, Vaes Dothrak, and Meereen. We cannot turn our backs on the good because of those who support Cersei one moment and the Faith the next. We are their rulers and we have a duty to protect them,” Jon argued. She knew he believed his words. _There is no emptiness behind them._

“I think King’s Landing is the exception,” Rhaenys jested. _Or at least I believe she says so in jest._

“It still worries me, you on the ground. Take Barristan, Arthur, and Oswell with you. If you are going to be my brave northern fool, I want our best men protecting you,” Daenerys said. She always liked to call him her northern fool whenever he decided to embark on something foolish. It first began when they were in Winterfell, before they shared their true feelings for one another.

“I want at least one of them here, protecting you,” he replied, kissing her braid.

“Our dragons are enough protection,” she said, knowing they would stop anyone from bringing them harm.

“Fine,” he huffed, adjusting himself into their bed. She felt Rhaenys and Visenya pull the furs up to cover their naked bodies from the cool winter air seeping into their tent as the night grew old. “Taking the city might not be as easy as we think. Go to sleep. We will need our rest.”

Nodding her head against his chest, she left a small peck on his muscular chest. The warmth he provided always made her rest easy and this night was no different. Under the furs with her King and two Queens to keep her warm, as dragons preferred, Daenerys closed her eyes. She was drained of all her energy, ready for sleep to take her. She did not know how long it took for sleep to take her, but she knew it was not too long.

 

_What is that?_ Tearing herself from a deep sleep, Daenerys awoke to something nudging her feet. Lifting her head off of Jon’s chest, she heard him begin to stir beneath her. Most of the candles had died out as she tried to keep her eyes open as she was still tired from the previous night. As her senses sharpened, she realized morning had not come. It was still dark outside and the weird feeling at her foot was Ghost’s nose pushing her foot, likely trying to wake Jon.

“Ghost, what are you doing?” she asked, pulling the furs further up. The white direwolf began to nudge her feet again, this time waking Jon from his slumber. With Jon now awake, Daenerys sat up and allowed Jon to sit up in their bed, doing his best not to wake Rhaenys and Visenya.

“Is it morning already?” she heard Visenya mutter, still lying on her pillow with her eyes shut.

“What is it boy?” Jon asked. Ghost only backed away from the bed, staring at them with his intimidating red eyes. After a few moments, she began to worry until the direwolf motioned his head to the entrance of their tent.

“I’ll go see what this is about,” Jon said in frustration, climbing from their bed to gather his discarded breeches and a spare tunic he had lying near the wooden trunk holding his armor and clothes. Curious to know what Ghost had woken them for, Daenerys pulled on her furs, covering her chest to keep herself warm.

When Jon walked to the entrance of their tent to open the flap, she saw what she thought was Ser Arthur Dayne and Jon’s new squire, Alyn Blackwood. Doing her best to concentrate on what was being said, Daenerys listened carefully knowing she was in no state to walk over and be seen by the squire.

“You told me to wake you if a raven came from Winterfell,” Alyn said, handing Jon a raven scroll sealed with the familiar grey wax used by House Stark. Her interest was piqued, wondering what news came from the North. _Have the Dead reached the Wall? Have some of the free folk turned on them? No that is silly. Could Cersei have sent men north to attack our kin?_

“That will be all Alyn,” Jon bid the squire to leave, letting the tent flap close as he walked back toward the nearest candle that still provided adequate light. Uninterested in leaving this be, Daenerys gathered the furs around her and slid off their bed to meet Jon around the candlelight.

She watched him break the wax seal as she approached. Looking for a reaction as he unfurled the scroll, she focused on his face, looking for any reaction, good or bad. After a few moments, his face lit with joy. She found herself smiling until she found his smile falter into a grimace. What looked to be sadness then turned to a silent rage. _Anyone else would think him unreadable or emotionless, but Jon is mine and I am his. I know when he is angered._

As she reached to grab the scroll from his hands, he moved quickly to place the scroll in the candlelight, setting it aflame. Daenerys watched in horror as the parchment burned and shriveled until nothing was left. _He never keeps secrets. Not from me. Not from his Queens._

“What is it? You’re scaring me,” she asked in a trembling voice, afraid of the answer he may provide.

“Trust me,” he replied, staring at the flame with rage in his calm eyes.

“Trust you? What did the raven say? What news from Winterfell? You are scaring me,” she said as he remained silent with his quiet fury.

“Do you trust me?” he asked her, finally looking into her eyes, placing both of his hands on her shoulders.

“Of course, I do. I don’t understand, what are…,” she tried to speak before he turned to walk back toward the entrance of their tent.

“Alyn, Arthur,” Jon called his Kingsguard and squire back to him. She could see Arthur through the opening of their tent and assumed Alyn was standing next to him, hidden from her sight. “Find Grey Worm and gather the Unsullied that will follow us into the tunnels. And be quiet about it, I do not want the camp to know we are leaving now. And say nothing of the raven from Winterfell.”

“Yes, your Grace,” both Arthur Dayne and Alyn Blackwood said in unison.

“Arthur,” Jon kept the Kingsguard from retreating, “find Gendry Baratheon and his men. They are coming with us.”

Brushing past her with haste, she watched as he started to gather his chainmail, battle leathers, and gorget. She was frightened by what he was doing. He was rushing himself, putting on his own armor as quick as he could.

“What is going on? Did our scouts spot an army to the west?” Visenya asked, now walking from their bed in Jon’s direction, not caring to cover herself.

“The siege will begin sooner than I planned,” he answered, pulling on the wool stockings he gathered from the chest next to him. Visenya walked over to fasten his light armor, making sure he would be protected from their enemies. _She always does enjoy helping him with his armor._

“What happened? Why are we abandoning our plans?” Rhaenys asked, now coming to her side, covered in furs.

“I am not abandoning the plan. We are just attacking sooner than I wished,” he said. Daenerys could see he was still dealing with whatever he read.

“Why?” Rhaenys asked, just as concerned as she was. _Why is he keeping this a secret?_

“Trust me. When this is over, you will know,” he promised as Visenya handed him his worn, black leather gloves. When Visenya handed him Blackfyre, he continued, “Speak nothing of the raven. Do not tell anyone, even our closest advisors. It will take me some hours to reach the Red Keep and for our men to take the wildfire caches. Our men will signal when they do. Have the army prepared at sunrise.”

“Jon, I don’t…,” Visenya tried to protest before Jon pulled her in for a long, passionate kiss.

“I love you. I promise, I will not let any harm come to you,” he said when he broke apart from Visenya, looking to each of them.

“Harm?” Rhaenys asked before he pulled her in for a kiss. They were all trying to figure out why he was doing this.

Daenerys wanted to yell and fight him over this, but knew his stubbornness. Similar to her own, she knew there was nothing she could say to change his mind. He was set on leading the attack before sunrise for reasons unbeknownst to her. _I need to trust him. I always have._

Before she could say anything, he stepped before her, looking down at her with apologetic eyes. Letting the furs fall to the ground, Daenerys stepped on her toes, lifting her chin to set her lips upon his. Relishing in what they had, she refused to let him go as his hands were settled on her hips, trying to let her know he needed to leave.

Her time was cut short when Jon stepped away, breaking away from their passionate kiss. She felt like she needed to say all sorts of things. _I love you. We love you. Remember our children and our family. Keep yourself alive and unharmed. Do not go. Stay here. You are the King, let others do the fighting. Ride a dragon to the Red Keep if you must._ “Return to me,” was all she could say.

Without saying the words, he promised he would return with the eyes he gave her before backing away to leave the tent. Praying for his safety, she watched him disappear into the dark. She would now have to wait for hours until the battle would begin, likely after sunrise.

 

 

**Jon Targaryen**

“Why do we not just do it now?” Arya Stark asked with skepticism regarding his plan. _She has never been one to hide her thoughts._

“I must be sure before I act. You know what to do?” he replied, wanting to ensure she was prepared for what had to be done.

“Aye, you do not have to tell me twice, your Grace,” Arya replied in a mocking tone some may interpret as an insult. Jon was close enough to Arya to understand her intentions. “And stop brooding. Our direwolves will kill any man who gets in our way.”

Jon turned to look at Ghost, Silver, Shadow, Nymeria, and her pack of wolves standing guard with them at the hidden entrance to a tunnel leading to the passages beneath King’s Landing. It was nearly pitch black without a full moon and the woods surrounding them were almost as silent as a crypt. The passageway he intended to use was only known to members of House Targaryen. Not even their Kingsguard or Varys knew of its location across from a stretch of wall near the Old Gate.

Unsullied were still coming in groups of ten, silently trekking through the woods to avoid alerting any of the Riverlords or their soldiers to their presence. Jon did not want anyone to know he would be entering the city earlier than intended. There could still be spies in their midst and he was not willing to take the chance.

“For fucks sake, are we going or not?” the Hound asked, marching in his direction with Gendry Baratheon, Lord Beric Dondarrion, and Thoros of Myr. Jon found their company to be an odd one. From what he could recall, Beric and Thoros got on well before the wars, but the Hound hated everyone.

“Silence Clegane,” Ser Barristan commanded, standing guard at the entrance to the tunnel that laid within a cluster of bushes next to a great oak tree. It took some light digging, but they found the hidden door underneath a thin layer of dirt. Anyone who wished to escape King’s Landing would have been able to open it from underneath with a bit of strength.

“Fuck silence, if I am going to do die in this shit city, I want to get it over with,” the Hound said before drinking from his wineskin. _I need him sober. He is one of the best fighters we have._ Without bothering to order him, Jon reached for the wineskin and tore it from Sandor Clegane’s grasp.

“If we do not have enough men with us, we are all going to die by wildfire,” he replied, knowing that would stop the Hound from complaining. _He does not fear anything except fire._ Not needing to say more, Jon walked over to sit next to Ghost as they waited for more men to arrive.

As time seemed to creep by, Jon ran his fingers through Ghost’s fur, preparing himself for the fighting to come. He was considering all possible points of attack within the passages beneath King’s Landing. He prayed the route he had chosen was still hidden and the Lannister would be caught unawares. If not, they would be walking into an ambush and a sure slaughter.

The waiting was the worst. Waiting before a battle always gave him time to think of what could happen, what could go wrong. He knew some men would drink until they were drunk before a battle. Others would make themselves sick with worry. The scared would piss themselves or worse, flee. He brooded and worried. But as the King, he did his best to hide the worry. He needed to show his men he was confident in his plans.

Just as he let his thoughts turn to his children, he caught sight of Grey Worm approaching with several of the Unsullied captains behind him with their spears and shields in hand. Rising to his feet, Jon knew it was time. Ghost seemed to understand as well and entered the hidden passage before anyone else.

“We are ready, my King,” Grey Worm said, holding his helmet at his waist.

“Good. Remember, the wildfire is our first priority. Lead your men to each cache Varys has found. If we are lucky, his spies will be waiting for us and they will guide you to where it is stored. Once it is secured, each of you will send a man to the house in Cobbler’s Square near the Gate of the Gods. After every captain has secured the caches of wildfire, send the signal. Do not wait to take the scorpions. My Queens know we will not wait for them to be taken,” he spoke to Grey Worm and each of the Unsullied captains standing in a semi-circle before him.

“Do you want us focusing on the scorpions or gates after the signal has been sent?” Grey Worm asked. The original plan was to take the scorpions before their armies approached the city walls, but Jon knew this battle needed to begin before he had wished.

“Take the scorpions first. The sooner the dragons can fly freely over the city, the sooner the gates will fall and the city will be ours,” Jon answered, earning nods of approval from the Unsullied. Turning back to his cousin, he continued, “Arya, take Nymeria and her wolves to protect our rear. I do not want someone attacking us from behind.”

“Just be sure to not get us lost down there,” Arya replied, stepping aside as Jon moved toward the open door concealed by the thick bushes. The first to follow behind him were his Kingsguard who he knew were going to stick close by for the rest of the day. As soon as he set foot into the black hole in the ground, he found his feet hitting a creaking set of wooden stairs that went down nearly ten feet before he set foot on dirt. Once they were underground, Ser Oswell lit a torch, illuminating the passageway to reveal the stone walls supporting the ground from caving in around them. _These tunnels are more impressive than the Red Keep, Dragon Pit, or the Great Sept of Baelor._

Nearly fifty feet ahead, he could see Ghost, Silver, and Shadow waiting for them. He was more than happy to let them lead the way. If there was a trap waiting for them, the direwolves would easily sniff it out before they could be ambushed. The first men into the tunnel behind them were Beric, Thoros, and the Hound. Jon wondered where Gendry was until he remembered he found the heir to Storm’s End in Arya’s presence nearly every moment since the battle along the Blackwater Rush.

As they started the slow march down the dark corridor wide enough for two men to stand abreast, Jon found Arthur Dayne and Oswell Whent brushing past him to lead their party into King’s Landing. He was not going to protest, knowing they were only doing their duty. Walking next to Ser Barristan, he found Beric Dondarrion walking behind him. The Lord of Blackhaven was not as he remembered him. He was scarred, looked older, and wore a cloth around his head, covering one eye he surely lost in battle.

“I heard stories the Mountain killed you and here you stand,” Jon said, slowing down to walk beside the Lightning Lord as some referred to him in the tourneys he attended as a child.

“The Mountain did kill me. He drove a spear right through my heart. I was dead until the Lord of Light brought me back. Thoros said the words and the Lord brought me back,” Beric responded, turning to Thoros. _Seven hells, I have found myself surrounded by fanatics again. I thought Thoros abandoned this nonsense years ago._

“I have no power. Sad thing to say, I had given up on our Lord, but then he brought back my friend. Now, we must serve him,” Thoros said.

“There is a greater purpose at work here. Our Lord brought me back for a reason. Dragons came back into this world for a reason. A darkness is coming and if we do not stop it, he is going to destroy us all,” Beric added.

“And you believe that?”

“You do not? After what you have seen beyond the Wall?” Beric responded. “If you do not believe, then why does a red priestess travel with you?” _Because the Lord of Light has over a million followers in Essos. I cannot wage a war against them all even if I wanted to._

“I do not keep her around for her faith, if that is what you are asking,” he replied.

“She serves House Targaryen because the Lord of Light wills it. You will lead us through the darkness and if we are fortunate, some of us may live to see what comes after,” Beric proclaimed. _He is starting to sound like the Lady Kinvarra. I preferred him when he had no religion._

“Some of us?” he questioned.

“Thousands will die in the war to come. We all must serve and that will mean many giving our life to protect the living,” Beric responded with a sense of acceptance that no matter what they did, many would fall in the war in the North.

Thoughts of the Night King and his army began to occupy his mind, distracting him from the task at hand. Jon knew this was not the time to worry about the threat in the North and pushed Beric’s words aside. Leaving Beric behind, Jon quickened his steps to rejoin Ser Barristan Selmy and the rest of his Kingsguard.

“We should be under the city now, your Grace,” Ser Barristan said in a hushed tone as soon as he was at the old knight’s side. Jon was grateful to have the Lord Commander of his Kingsguard with him. His presence alone increased their chances of taking the Red Keep before Cersei had the chance to flee or order the destruction of the city. _If Ser Barristan had been there, my father and brother would still be alive._

“Aye,” he replied, guessing they were now under Cobbler’s Square. Despite how well he came to know the hidden passages beneath King’s Landing, it was impossible to tell where one stood at any time without a reference.

“If things turn for the worse, save yourself, my King. I know you would stand and fight with your men, but there are more important battles to be fought. The realm will need its King when the dead march south,” Ser Barristan said, still looking straight down the narrow passageway for any threat that lay ahead. _Did Daenerys put him up to this?_

“Let’s hope it does not come to that,” he replied. _You do not know me at all Ser Barristan if you think I will run from this fight._ “Ser Barristan…”

“Yes, your Grace?”

“Should I fall, save the city if you can. If you cannot, retreat and find my Queens. Serve them and protect them. Only my family and Lord Davos knows, my will leaves the throne to Daenerys, Rhaenys, and Visenya. They will rule the realm until Rhaegar is of age. Follow any order they give,” he informed his Lord Commander, who looked to be taking in the information with little surprise.

“Of course, my King,” Barristan replied. Jon thought Barristan had more to say, but the knight held his tongue when they both heard the direwolves running ahead. Without braziers lighting the path ahead, Jon failed to see what the direwolves had discovered. Not knowing whether it was friend or foe, Jon unsheathed Blackfyre as the rest of his men pulled their swords from their scabbards.

They approached the sounds of direwolves growling with care, knowing they could be walking into Lannister soldiers. Tightening the grip on his Valyrian steel blade, Jon prepared himself for a fight he wished to avoid until reaching the Red Keep. It was only after walking another hundred feet when he eased his grip on Blackfyre. A small boy, no older than ten, was backed into the wall by the direwolves baring their teeth.

“Boy, what are you doing down here?” Ser Oswell demanded a response, holding the tip of his sword in the boy’s face once Ghost and Shadow had backed away. Silver still blocked off the boy’s point of escape.

“The Spider told me to wait here for King’s soldiers,” the boy replied. Jon surmised the boy had been in the tunnels for some time. His hair was unkept and his skin dirty under the flamelight.

“How long have you been down here boy?” he asked, approaching the child as his Kingsguard parted for him to face Varys’ little bird.

“Since the armies crossed the Blackwater Rush,” the boy answered.

“And you know where the wildfire is held?” he asked, earning a nod from the boy. “All of it?” he followed up, earning another confirmation from the spy.

“And where is the wildfire being held?” he asked.

“Beneath Cobbler’s Square, Flea Bottom, the Street of Sisters, River Row, Fishmonger’s Square, the Street of Steel, the Hook, Muddy Way, near the Old Gate, and the Iron Gate,” the boy answered. “There are more of us. The Spider said we are to show you where it is hidden.”

“How many men guard the wildfire?” Ser Arthur asked.

“None. It is just us and the alchemists. The Queen does not trust the soldiers,” the boy informed them. _Cersei is mad but she is not an utter fool. Her men would not be fighting for her if they knew what was hidden beneath the city._

“After you have shown my men to the wildfire caches, take them to the scorpions,” Jon commanded the boy before turning around to look for the commander of the Unsullied.

“Unsullied,” he called in High Valyrian for Grey Worm and the captains of the Unsullied to come forward. One by one, each brushed past Beric, Thoros, and Sandor Clegane to stand before him. “The boy here will lead you to the wildfire. Kill every man near it and remember, do not let any flame get near it. If the wildfire lights, we all die. Once it is secured, remember the plan.”

“We will not fail you, my King,” Grey Worm promised. _They never have._

“Go,” he ordered, watching each of the Unsullied march past, silent and alert. None of them held fear in their eyes. _The bravest of Westerosi knights would fear what they walked into._

Once the two hundred Unsullied were gone, splitting right and left at the end of the tunnel led by several of Varys’ spies, Jon turned to look at the company remaining. The Red Keep would be taken by his Kingsguard, a pack of direwolves, what remained of the Brotherhood Without Banners, fifty of his most loyal household guard, dozens of Unsullied, and his cousin, Arya Stark. He knew the men he commanded and knew he did not need to give any speech to give them courage. _Thank the gods._

Jon knew the way to the Red Keep and stepped forth, leading the company fifty more feet to the end of the tunnel. Taking a left, Jon led the way with his family’s three direwolves just ahead of him. He was trusting their senses to avoid any troubles. The first stretch of tunnel they found was still narrow and the air was stale. Spider webs covered the occasional brazier, but to the likely surprise of some, there were no rats.

Knowing he needed to give his Unsullied time to reach the wildfire caches and prepare their attack, Jon did not rush their march toward the Red Keep. The journey toward his family’s keep was quiet and boring, as he preferred. Anything else would have meant failure and their sure deaths. The tunnel they snuck through was straight and narrow, with the occasional slight bend in its path.

It was some time before they reached the end of the tunnel, leading his men to hook right around a corner that stood beneath the Street of Sisters. Jon knew exactly where they were at and what it meant. They were halfway there. Now it was a straight march below Flea Bottom toward the intricate maze of hidden passages beneath the Red Keep.

No one spoke a word as they passed underneath Flea Bottom, getting closer and closer to the Red Keep. A quiet growl from Shadow let him know they were nearing the end of the final passageway. Just moments later, the flight of stone stairs came into view, leading up toward a hidden entrance into another passage beneath the Red Keep. At the foot of the stairs, Jon recognized a chest left there with gold, clothing fit for smallfolk, and swords in the event his family needed to escape by this route.

Stepping past the direwolves, Jon climbed the stairs. Once he was at the top of the stairs, he knelt down to begin removing the stones that hid the escape route to those on the other side. One by one, he pulled each away until there was enough space for his men and the wolves to sneak through. Before he could pass through, Ghost brushed him aside, not letting him take the lead.

Following the direwolves, Jon prepared to enter the corridor, only to be cut off by Ser Arthur Dayne. _Damn him._ Not giving the others the same chance, Jon stuck right behind the Sword of the Morning, stepping into the familiar corridor he played in as a child. He still remembered the first time Aegon and Rhaenys brought him down there.

“This way,” he whispered, pointing to his right. With Blackfyre in hand, Jon firmed his grip when he saw the direwolves run down the corridor as fast as they could. _There are men down here._ “We need to move.”

Knowing their attack needed to come undetected, Jon ran with his Kingsguard behind the direwolves, leaving the rest of the men behind. It was only when they reached the first corner leading to another corridor on their left, did he hear the sound of direwolves ripping into a man’s flesh. The man’s scream was cut short by Ghost tearing his throat apart. The sight of a Lannister soldier lying dead was not unwelcome, but it would be if others heard.

Slowing their approach, they readied themselves for more guards waiting for them. Jon knew they still had another hundred feet before the stairs they needed to climb. When they reached the lifeless corpse on the ground, Nymeria and her pack of wolves rushed past them, down the corridor. Jon guessed they planned to clear out the corridors at this level.

Moving past the dead soldier, Jon reached the stairs that would lead them to the food storage room next to the Great Hall. Before turning to march up the stairs, Jon found the rest of their men rushing to catch up with them. Looking for the man he could trust most, he spotted one of his most loyal guards, Addam Waters, a bastard from Duskendale. “Addam, stand guard here until the fighting begins,” he commanded, not having to say more to the experienced soldier.

Trusting in Addam Waters and Nymeria’s pack to fend off any threats behind them, Jon followed Arthur Dayne up the twisting stairs. It was a long climb until they finally reached the level he intended to enter. Arthur knew these stairs and Jon did not need to instruct the knight where to stop.

Ever so carefully, Arthur Dayne opened the hidden entrance into the storage room just on the other side of the stone wall. Jon found himself holding his breath as his most loyal knight peered through the opening, risking a crossbolt from a waiting Lannister soldier. Fortunate for them, none were there waiting for them.

Easing through, Arthur led the way, followed shortly by Ghost, Silver, and Shadow. Jon followed Oswell into room with Barristan protecting his back. Without instruction, Ser Oswell climbed a table standing against the wall below a window that would provide them a view of the sky above the Gate of the Gods. It was still dark outside, but Jon knew that would change soon. _All we can do now is wait._

As more and more of his men spilled into the room, Jon walked over to the doorway that separated them from the corridor that would lead them to the Great Hall and the rest of the Red Keep. Praying they had not yet been discovered, Jon put his ear against the dark wooden door to listen for any soldiers or servants passing by. He heard nothing and resigned himself to patiently waiting for the time to come. There was nothing to be done.

Ser Oswell kept an eye on the sky above King’s Landing as Jon sat against the wall to the right of the door. Grey Worm and Ser Barristan stood no more than three feet from the door, vigilantly guarding the entrance from anyone who should come upon them. The room was soon filled with twenty of the men who came with him. Somehow, Arya and Gendry managed to slip past the men ahead of them and sat next to him against the wooden shelves filled with a varied assortment of kitchenware and silverware saved for feasts.

It did not take long for the boredom to settle in. Silently, they waited to either be discovered or lead their attack once the battle outside the walls of the city began. Ser Oswell and a few Targaryen guards watched for his Queens to attack while the rest of them listened. Every time they heard a pair of feet echoing through the hall on the other side of the door, they held their breaths. Jon was not worried about fighting his way out of the storage room so much as he was alerting Cersei’s men to their surprise attack.

When the sky turned from a dark blue hue to the familiar morning shade he had grown accustomed to as a Prince raised in King’s Landing, he began to prepare himself for the fighting ahead. They needed to move quickly through the Red Keep and avoid as little resistance as possible if they were to succeed. The Lannisters had controlled his family’s keep for years now and Jon knew that meant they probably knew the best escape routes. Even with his armies surrounding the city and the Unsullied taking the caches of wildfire below, Cersei could very well escape their grasp. _Arya and I must not fail. And I pray we are wrong._

Jon guessed an hour must have passed by since they first set foot inside the cramped storage room when he noticed Gendry’s annoyed look. He thought Gendry was just impatient and wanted to get along with it, until he realized he was holding his tongue over something. Occasionally, the son of Stannis Baratheon would look like he was ready to ask him a question before deciding against it.

“If you have something to ask, ask it. We may all die here today,” he said in a hushed tone, breaking the silence.

“Why did you not sail for Westeros when you learned of your father and brother?” Gendry asked the question Stannis never had. Stannis asked him to return but never why he hadn’t.

“Why did you stay in the Riverlands? From what I heard, you had the chance to return to Storm’s End and serve your father,” Jon replied. _We both fought our own wars for different reasons that are the same._

“My father had already lost the Battle of Blackwater Bay. I did what I thought was right. I fought where I could do the most good,” Gendry answered without a hint of self-doubt.

“My people are here in Westeros, but I was a ruler is Essos before I had any claim to the Iron Throne. It may be hard to believe, but my people across the Narrow Sea needed me more than the Seven Kingdoms. I could bring justice those that murdered my blood or free millions from a life in chains. The choice was a difficult one. I chose what I thought right,” Jon answered. As he attempted to read Gendry’s reaction, Jon believed he accepted his answer.

“You did the right thing,” Arya said, sitting next to Gendry. _She would back any decision I make._

“What will you do if Cersei escapes?” Gendry asked. Jon briefly locked eyes with Arya, letting her know that they were still to follow through with their plan.

“She isn’t going to,” he affirmed. _We must not fail. This war ends today. While we are squabbling amongst ourselves, the Night King is preparing his army._

“Your Grace!” Ser Oswell called for his attention. Jon turned to look at the Kingsguard monitoring the skies surrounding the city. When Oswell lifted his helm from the table he was standing on and placed it on his head, Jon knew the battle would soon begin. “Queen Daenerys flies over the Gate of the Gods.”

Despite the distance standing between them and the walls of Kings Landing, Jon could hear the countless horns blasting in the air from his armies. Jon stood to his feet, pulling Blackfyre from its scabbard while Gendry picked up his warhammer leaning against the wall between them. Jon never liked wielding a hammer in the training yard, feeling it hampered his agility and angles of attack. _He better know how to swing the damn thing._

“The walls are aflame,” Ser Oswell added before climbing down from the table to join the rest of the Kingsguard standing before the doorway. Jon took the place next to Oswell, directly behind Arthur with Dawn in hand. His most loyal knight had the sword of House Dayne point toward the door, ready to pierce the armor of any soldier they found on the other side of the door.

Looking over his shoulder, Jon found all their men calm and prepared for the fighting within the Red Keep. Each of these men had fought and bled for him. All were battle-tested and well-trained. _I trust them with my life._ The only men amongst them who had not fought for him in Essos were Gendry Baratheon, Arya Stark, and the Brotherhood Without Banners. Their fighting abilities could not be questioned either.

“Are you sure you know where you are going?” he asked Arya, making sure not disclose what they both had planned. _This must remain between us for now. I trust my Kingsguard and my Queens, but this secret should not spread until we know._

“I learned my way around here from Visenya. Do not worry about me Jon,” Arya replied, confident she would accomplish what they had discussed. _After what she did to the Freys, I should not doubt her._

As the horns outside the city began to falter, the unmistakable sound of the city bells sounded through the city. Turning back toward the door, Jon firmed his grip on Blackfyre, readying himself for the final battle against House Lannister. “Now!” he commanded Ser Barristan.

Without a second’s hesitation, the Lord Commander of his Kingsguard pushed the wooden door open. The knight moved with great speed into the hallway as the door flung open with his sword raised in the air. Jon wondered why until he took five steps into the hall and found four Lannister soldiers assaulted by Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur.

The men must have been shocked to find them already within the Red Keep as the bells rang, warning of the battle outside the city walls. None of the four soldiers were able to put up a defense as the Kingsguard opened each of their throats. Jon quickly made his way past the lifeless corpses with their blades still sheathed. Running past the Great Hall, Jon kept his eyes focused on the corner ahead for men rounding the corner toward them.

When Jon glanced back, he saw his household guard running toward the other end of the hall. He tasked them with taking the walls surrounding the Red Keep and parts of the keep only they were familiar to. They were to kill any westermen, gold cloaks, and sellswords they found. The Unsullied and Brotherhood Without Banners were to follow him and the Kingsguard.

The moment they reached the first corridor after the Great Hall, several Lannister soldiers rounded the corner with swords in hand. Splitting apart, Arthur and Barristan took the first two men running at them. Jon sidestepped Ser Arthur, lifting Blackfyre in the air, past his shoulder to bring it down upon the knight charging at him.

As the Valyrian steel of Blackfyre collided with the castle-forged steel of his opponent, Jon surmised the man he was fighting was no stranger to bloodshed. There was no panic or fright in the man’s eyes. Withdrawing his blade for another blow, Jon swung his sword wide for a blow to the man’s side that was parried. Sizing up his opponent, Jon sidestepped and feinted a move to his left only to go for the man’s upper right torso. The man was not caught off guard, but Jon was quicker and pressed his advantage. Using his strength, he knocked the man back with a strong blow that was barely defended. As the man stumbled slightly, Jon cut through the man’s right leg before opening his throat. _There aren’t many openings. That damn crimson armor is well-made. I need to be precise with my strikes._

Without a chance to regroup, more soldiers came as they turned the corner. The next two men he came across were not so well-trained. Jon neither feinted nor parried any blows. With superior speed, skill, and a lack of fear, he cut through each man before they could even swing their swords. After he finished cutting down the two Lannister soldiers, he found himself fighting two more.

Both the men he fought knew what they were doing, angling to attack his sides at the same time. Knowing he needed to defeat one of them quickly before another got around him, Jon pushed the attack on the man to his right. Bringing down Blackfyre against the soldier’s center, he seemed to catch the man by surprise. The force of his blow sent the man back into a defensive stance toward the wall behind him. With two quick strikes at the man’s chest, then knee, he cut the man’s sword hand off. Counting on his Kingsguard, Ser Arthur cut the other man’s head off from behind as Jon beheaded the opponent in front of him.

While they were occupied with the first wave of Lannister soldiers, Gendry managed to slip past them. Jon was impressed by his fighting abilities. The warhammer gave Gendry great reach and the heir to Storm’s End smashed several skulls in the few seconds Jon observed. Next to Gendry fought the Hound, who was a better fighter than any man who was not a Kingsguard. Sandor Clegane knew his strengths and used them well. He was stronger than almost any man he knew and quick for his size. _Like the Mountain._

Not shying away from the fighting, Jon rushed to aid Beric Dondarrion and Thoros of Myr, who found themselves surrounded fifty feet down the hall. Catching the first of their enemies unawares, Jon drove his sword through the back of the man’s unprotected neck before pulling Blackfyre back into a smooth swing to remove the head of the man standing next to him.

Their rush to aid Thoros and Beric may have been for naught as Jon came to realize the soldiers surrounding them were wary to attack. As soon as one man would take a step forward, they found themselves taking two steps back. _Its those damn flaming swords._

Caught between the flaming swords and the Kingsguard, the westermen panicked. They did not know who to defend and Jon did not let them learn from the mistake. He cut down the group of men with Barristan, Oswell, and Arthur, efficiently moving through them with minimal effort. After cutting down his third opponent amongst that group, Jon found the first drops of blood staining his leathers and gorget.

“Come on, we need to reach the Throne Room before its too late,” Jon said, getting his men to follow him down the hall. Some of his Unsullied were already running ahead of him, led by Grey Worm. Jon ran to catch up with them. He knew Grey Worm would not push too far ahead. They agreed beforehand to keep their force together and not get separated.

Rushing to Grey Worm’s side at the end of the corridor, Jon stood behind the shield wall the Unsullied had formed. Peering over the shields, Jon looked down the hall to his left and the one to his right. To his left was the hall leading toward the Throne Room and where he expected to find Cersei if she was not hiding in Maegor’s Holdfast or somewhere within the city.

“Unsullied! Ten of you will hold this position. Grey Worm and fifty more, with me. The rest will take the corridor to the right and take the grounds surrounding the Red Keep,” Jon commanded in High Valyrian. Heeding his orders, two of the Unsullied forming the shield wall stepped aside so he could lead the party to take the Throne Room.

He had the stamina to run as fast as he could to reach the entrance hall that stood before the Throne Room, but Jon kept to a swift march knowing the men he led wore heavier armor. As their boots hit the marble floor of the Red Keep, echoing through the hall, Jon could hear the men gathering ahead. _She is in the Throne Room._

As they approached, he heard Grey Worm command several of his men to form a shield wall to protect them as they approached. Jon did not protest, knowing they would likely face crossbowmen who could kill himself and the others who did not carry a shield. With two rows of Unsullied marching carefully ahead of them, Jon followed his most dedicated soldiers toward the heaviest fighting they were likely to see.

Step by step, they slowly made their way down the corridor. Looking over the shield wall, past the pointed Unsullied spears, Jon spotted the Lannister soldiers and gold cloaks waiting for them. Once he saw a crossbowman, he ducked his head knowing there was nothing to be gained from making himself an easy target. Slowly, bolt after bolt hit the Unsullied shields as they approached the enemy.

“Come on you cunts! Kill the eunuch bastards!” he heard a man cry as they closed the final twenty feet between themselves and the Lannisters. Mere feet after passing into the entrance hall, the Unsullied crashed their shields against the Lannister shield wall, driving their spears into the less disciplined westermen. _Either they are less disciplined or scared._

As shields clattered and spears pierced flesh, cries of dying men rang through the hall over the orders of their commanders. The second row of Unsullied were the most successful, free to focus on where they placed their spears, aiming for the weak points in the Lannister armor. Two days before, Jon had the Unsullied study the armor Tywin Lannister had commissioned for his armies. The Unsullied knew their enemy well and took advantage of their own superior knowledge and lack of fear.

The further and further they pushed back the westermen, the more Jon wondered if taking the Throne Room would be easier than he predicted. All those thoughts were soon shattered by the sight of the Mountain pushing aside his own men before wielding the largest greatsword he had seen a man wield in just one hand.

One of the Unsullied managed to pierce the weak spot in Gregor Clegane’s armor, beneath his shoulder. Jon watched as Ser Gregor grabbed hold of the spear buried into his flesh and simply cast it aside as if nothing had hit him. Without much time to peer at the man’s eyes underneath the unfamiliar Queensguard helm, Jon gathered there was little left of a man within. _Not that there ever was._

As the Mountain threw away the spear that should have incapacitated him, he ran right into the Unsullied shield wall, knocking three of the Unsullied over. Rushing in to defend his men, Jon lifted Blackfyre to strike quickly at the Mountain’s center as the entrance hall descended into chaos. The shield walls had broken and the organized fighting had turned into a simple melee. _Ser Arthur and I can win a melee._

Despite the strength he had and his Valyrian steel sword, Jon’s strike was parried with ease. Jon had seen the Mountain fight before and knew something was off. _He has changed. He is stronger. Far stronger. Gods help us if he is quicker._

Back and forth, Jon met each of the Mountain’s blows with Blackfyre holding strong against the greatsword. Jon was quicker and more skilled then the Mountain, but his size and strength, paired with the reach of his greatsword, dictated he must tread carefully. Despite his best efforts, Jon found himself backpedaling due to his surroundings. Every time he wished to sidestep the Mountain or feint a strike, he had to abandon his plans in order to avoid being struck down by the fighting around him.

Around him, he caught sight of his Kingsguard engaged in battle with Cersei’s Queensguard. It was easy to identify them in their black and silver armor that stood in stark contrast to that of his Kingsguard who wore silver and gold armor. Ser Arthur appeared to be surrounded by three of the Queensguard, but Jon was confident in the Sword of the Morning once he unsheathed his second sword. _He will make quick work of them._

While Jon kept aware of the fighting around him, he began to concentrate his strikes on the Mountain’s upper torso. With each clatter of steel, Jon saved his strength and energy to bide his time, looking for a moment of weakness. Strike after strike, the Mountain parried his blows with easy. But with each parry, Jon managed to push his advantage and drive his opponent toward the two great doors that led to the Throne Room. _I must kill this bastard for Aegon and Father. I must do this for Rhaenys. I must do this for Ser Edwyn and Prince Lewyn._

Continuing with the half-hearted, but sure blows targeted at the Mountain’s chest, Jon heard screams louder than he usually heard on a battlefield. Focusing on the Mountain and avoiding any distraction, he pushed aside any concern until he heard the familiar sounds of direwolves tearing through men. Ghost, Shadow, and Silver had joined the fighting. He wanted them to stay back and attack any men attempting to flee, but their presence was welcome. _We will win now._

It took some time, but the Mountain began to read his feints and strikes. Jon could sense his opponent’s next move and felt fortunate the Mountain has not gotten any smarter. Thinking Jon was tiring and running out of angles of attack, Jon saw his enemy fall into his trap. Jon’s eyes followed the greatsword rise in the air and fall behind the Mountain’s back to gather strength for one great blow that would end Jon whether he parried it or not.

Remembering his lessons with Arthur and the importance of speed and one’s stance, Jon stepped to his right to avoid the coming blow with greater agility than he let on in the moments before. Hearing the greatsword strike against the marbled floor with a loud ring, Jon spun from his sidestep and brought Blackfyre around to cut Gregor Clegane’s leg at the knee.

Blood sprayed across the floor and onto his arm as the lower portion of the Mountain’s left leg fell to the floor. Despite the flesh and bone he had to cut through, Blackfyre still cut through the Mountain like every other man. _I will not make the same mistake as Oberyn Martell._

Jon knew a crippled Mountain was still deadly and a man to be feared. Not letting House Lannister’s loyal dog get a chance to kill him, Jon prepared to bring Blackfyre down upon the unprotected neck of the Queensguard. He soon realized his strike was not going to hit its intended target as he glimpsed a foot kicking the Mountain in the chest, sending him falling into the doors behind him. Salvaging the finishing blow he wished to land, Jon managed to remove the Mountain’s left hand as the giant of a man fell through the doors into the entrance of the Throne Room.

Looking up from the lifeless hand on the floor, Jon found Sandor Clegane to be the culprit thwarting his planned death blow to the Mountain. The Hound did not even look his way as he approached his crippled brother lying on the ground just feet away from them. Confident in Sandor’s abilities to fend off any further attack from his ailing brother, Jon looked over his shoulder to find the last of the Lannister soldiers and gold cloaks being slaughtered by his men. The unluckiest of their enemies found their throats and limbs torn apart from the direwolves. Ghost and Silver’s furs were covered in blood that nearly matched his direwolf’s eyes.

Turning back to his defeated opponent, Jon walked toward the Mountain as he struggled to get back on the one leg he still had. His efforts were cut short as the Hound removed his right arm that still clutched the greatsword that struck fear into the bravest of men. As Jon stepped forward, he was glad to be rid of Cersei’s Queensguard. _We still have to face the deadliest of her fighters._

“You’re uglier than me now. What have they done to you?” the Hound said, staring down at the discolored face of his brother. _Get on with it._ “I told you Brother I was going to be the one to kill you.” Just as Jon moved to land the killing blow, the Hound beat him to it, plunging his sword into the Mountain’s face. Jon couldn’t say the Mountain’s face looked any better than the mangled, bloody mess he saw now.

Time was against him and Jon was not about to waste it reveling in the Mountain’s demise. Defeating Lord Tywin’s mad dog was important, but finding Cersei Lannister and Ser Jaime Lannister was required if he was to end the war in the South. If they were to slip from his grasp, it would only delay the preparations for the Great War.

Turning his gaze from the monstrous corpse lying in the entrance to the Throne Room, Jon set his eyes upon the Iron Throne. With all seven of Cersei’s Queensguard lying dead in the entrance hall, Jon knew she was in the Throne Room when the attack on King’s Landing and the Red Keep began. He had thought Cersei would flee to Maegor’s Holdfast at the sounds of her men perishing. What he did not expect was the sight before him. _I don’t understand._

Reaffirming his grip on Blackfyre, Jon stepped toward the Iron Throne, passing the grand marble columns with lit braziers that surrounded their base. He paid no mind to the slight alterations to the Throne Room paying homage to Houses Baratheon and Lannister as he approached the steps of the Iron Throne. Nearly a quarter of the way to the steps of the throne, his Kingsguard came up alongside him with Grey Worm and Gendry Baratheon.

On the steps, before the Iron Throne was Ser Jaime Lannister holding the lifeless body of his sister, Cersei Lannister. Jaime pulled on her motionless corpse as he rested his brow against hers. She was dead. _But by who’s hand? Not Arya’s. This isn’t what we planned._

As he stepped closer, he soon realized it was not any of his men or a turncloak amongst the Lannister ranks that betrayed Cersei. It was Jaime. Jon saw his Valyrian steel sword lying on the stone steps, out of his reach. Even if the sword had been within his grasp, Jon did not think he would put up a fight. He had killed his sister, the woman he loved and the mother of his children. _After all that she has done, he acts now? What did she do? Has Jaime remembered his duty? Is he seeking forgiveness in the face of defeat and certain death? Or was it the deaths of his children? Or was it all?_

What should have been a great triumph felt like a hollow victory. As the King of Westeros, he attacked King’s Landing to end the war and unite the Seven Kingdoms for the war to come. To unite the living against the dead. As the head of his House, Jon retook the Iron Throne, which was his by right and his children after him. He came to King’s Landing to bring justice and revenge to the woman who plotted the deaths of his father and brother. Cersei was responsible for the deaths of his uncle and two of Rhaenys’ uncles. He nearly lost his sisters and mothers. Cersei Lannister nearly destroyed an entire realm with the war she caused in the Riverlands.

Her death at the hands of Jaime did nothing to ease the hate he held for her. It did not feel like justice. _Uncle Ned was beheaded because of her. Father died because of her. Aegon died because of her. They both should have had long reigns as great Kings of House Targaryen, not me. It should have been me to swing the sword. Aegon killed Viserys at least. I failed to kill Cersei._

Before he could give the command to place Jaime in chains, he caught sight of Arya approaching with her direwolves from the corner of his eye. Slowly, she approached with Needle in hand, dripping with the blood of dead westermen. There was still one more thing to be done and he was praying they would avoid what he knew needed to be done.

“Ser Barristan, have Ser Jaime placed in chains,” he ordered the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard just before the cries of the dragons rang out over the Red Keep. His Queens were arriving with their dragons in the outer yard of the Red Keep. Jon knew what that meant. _The city is ours. We have won._

 

 

**Visenya Targaryen**

Fumbling with her dark leather gloves, Visenya stood from the chair next to her wardrobe to join Daenerys and Rhaenys as they left their tent to begin preparations for the siege of King’s Landing. Wrought with worry and concern for Jon, Visenya barely managed to get her gloves on after struggling with her clothes. Crossing the red Myrish rugs, past the modest wooden table covered by a map of Westeros, she dipped her head under the open flap of their tent. Stepping into the brisk winter air, she found some comfort in her new winter clothes, dissimilar to those she wore in Essos.

Her grey dress was modest at first appearance, but upon close examination, a lady would recognize the finer details. Their dressmakers were always sure to include small hints alluding to their Valyrian heritage and the sigil of House Targaryen. The silver chain she typically wore to hold a small cape over one shoulder was left behind in her tent. _The three-headed dragon on the chain is not so subtle._ Visenya did not want to wear one considering she needed to fly in the coming battle.

With over twenty of their Unsullied guarding them, Visenya walked beside Daenerys and Rhaenys toward Ser Jorah’s tent that stood five tents down from their own. In contrast to the silence in the air, their camp was busy and full of life. Unsullied were leaving their tents and preparing for the siege without making much noise. _One could remain asleep in the camp as they prepared for war._

Little to her surprise, they came upon Ser Jorah sitting around a campfire outside his tent with Lord Davos Seaworth, Qhono, Kovarro, Rakharo, and several other Dothraki. She wondered if their Hand even understood what their riders were speaking as they rambled on about the women they had fucked and a bloodrider Qhono had killed. _Likely not._

She wondered if their Dothraki wore more furs than any of their ancestors before them. It was an unusual sight, to see them sitting around a fire during winter in Westeros, shielded from the cool winds with the furs Jon had made sure to supply them. If their Dothraki were to be effective during winter, against the Army of the Dead, they could not freeze to death.

“Ser Jorah,” Daenerys called for their advisor and general, bringing the men to their feet.

“Your Grace,” he answered, dipping his head.

“Now is the time. Have the armies prepared for battle. It will begin shortly after sunrise,” Daenerys ordered. Following the orders of a Queen, Ser Jorah Mormont left to raise the Targaryen and Crownlands army to form their lines in the fields outside the Gate of the Gods.

“Go, have the khalasar ready to fight within the hour,” Visenya ordered their bloodriders in Dothraki. She was still not as proficient as Daenerys in the foreign tongue, but Missandei was making good progress in assisting her with erasing hints of her Westerosi accent.

“Yes, Khaleesi,” each of their bloodriders answered in unison before quickly rushing to their horses nearby. Visenya twisted her head to watch them ride hard from the Unsullied camp toward the Dothraki camp that stretched from the woods closest to the Blackwater Rush around King’s Landing to the woods outside the Iron Gate.

“If I may ask, where is King Jon?” Lord Davos asked, approaching them with his hands behind his back. She could tell he was already trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. _He will not solve this one. I am still trying to understand why Jon is doing what he is doing._

“He is leading the attack on the Red Keep now. We must have our armies prepared to fight at first light,” Rhaenys answered in a hushed tone, aware there could still be spies in their midst.

“The siege was not supposed to begin this early. What changed?” Davos inquired.

“I truthfully cannot say, Lord Davos,” Daenerys replied, thinking just as hard on the matter as she was. _Why did he not tell us what was on that raven scroll? Jon never hides things from us. What can I not see?_

“I am sure our King has his reasons,” Davos replied. She could see it on their Hand’s face that he disagreed with Jon’s course of action. _I am sure he will let Jon know what a fool he thinks he is and how a King should not be putting himself in such dangerous situations._ “If that is all your Graces, I am going to make sure our lines are forming up.”

Once she saw Davos Seaworth was gone, Visenya turned back to face Daenerys and Rhaenys who held nervous faces. Neither of them were fearful of the coming battle. Visenya certainly was not. They had perfectly laid plans to remove the scorpions that were the only threat to their dragons. It was concern for Jon and the secret he was keeping from them that flooded their thoughts.

“Be careful when you attack the walls. Grey Worm said they may not be able to reach the scorpions in time after the signal has been given,” she reminded both of them.

“We know sister. We sat on the same war council,” her sister replied, almost rolling her eyes. _I just want you to be safe. I will not lose anymore of our family. Aegon and Father’s deaths still hurt._

“I just hope Jon does not try to be a hero and risk his own life,” Daenerys said, failing to hide how heavily the words weighed on her. Visenya was growing tired of the wars they fought and could see it was beginning to wear Daenerys thin. _The war with the Night King will be worse. I believe Jon. I saw the fear in his eyes after Hardhomme._ After a silent pause, Daenerys continued, “It has been an hour since he left. He is likely getting close to the Red Keep. Let’s find our dragons before the sun rises.”

 

The dark of night was gone as the sun began to reach higher and higher into the eastern sky above King’s Landing. Streaks of yellows and orange were turning to a typical blue sky as the threat of their soldiers fighting a well provisioned army with the sun in their eyes disappeared. What had been a well-ordered disbanding of the Unsullied did not extend to the camps of their Dothraki and Westerosi armies.

When she rode out of camp on her mare with a contingent of Unsullied, Visenya found many of their men rushing to prepare for the battle. Some were putting out the fires that cooked their breakfasts, while others stumbled out of their tents strapping their armor on. The sight of some Dothraki still making love to their women did bring a smile to her face. _When I was just a Princess of House Targaryen, I would have been repulsed by their openness. Now I understand some of their ways. They are our people now and we cannot force them to change all their ways._

Now sitting on Silverclaw, carefully brushing her hand over the smooth silver scales of her dragon, Visenya looked to her right to see Daenerys on Drogon. Daenerys was solely focus on the Gate of the Gods, waiting for their Unsullied within the walls of King’s Landing to signal the wildfire and most the scorpions had been taken. Past Daenerys, she spotted Rhaenys leaning down to whisper something to a restless Myrax. The red-scaled dragon was far more eager to fly into battle than the rest of their dragons. Visenya thought it fitting her sister claimed the dragon with the fiery temperament for herself.

Feeling Silverclaw stir beneath her, Visenya tried to let her dragon know they would be flying soon. She could always sense when her dragon wanted to fly and not be shackled to the ground. Again, she ran her hand over the hardened scales, bristling with heat. “We will fly soon, I promise,” she whispered in her mother tongue, knowing Silverclaw would understand her.

Perched atop her dragon, Visenya began to look out upon the ranks of Unsullied standing in formation before them. Tightly organized into perfect lines, her eyes flickered back and forth over the tips of their spears pointing to the sky. Despite the cool weather, she hoped the sun would warm them. They had warmer battle leathers made for them to wear underneath their black armor, knowing they were unaccustomed to fighting in a Westerosi winter. _The North will provide the true test._

In a similar organized phalanx, the Targaryen army from Dragonstone was formed up to her right next to the Unsullied. Visenya beamed with a bit of pride as she watched the banners of her House flutter in the wind. The three heads of the dragon always made her proud of her House and its heritage, despite the darkest of times she wished to forget. Their sigil represented their strength and put fear into the men standing against them on a battlefield. _The fear may have withered since the Dance, but dragons have returned to the world. Those who would do harm to my family will fear us again._

On either side of their Unsullied and Targaryen soldiers clad in their black armor, she found the armies of the Crownlands standing with them. She could see the banners of Houses Celtigar, Sunglass, Hayford, Buckwell, Rosby, and Rykker to her left. To her right, she could make out men fighting for Lords Stokeworth, Mallery, Bar Emmon, Massey, Cressey, and Staunton. There were others, but they were lost in the clutter of banners waving in the wind amongst the forest of spears.

Whenever she looked over her shoulder, she found thousands of Dothraki sitting restlessly on their horses, holding little patience for the fighting to begin. _It must kill them to be resigned to the rear, following other men into battle. It is not their way._ Even though she knew the Dothraki were not content with their role in the siege of King’s Landing, Visenya knew Jon was right. The khalasar was not equipped to fight a well-trained Lannister army guarding the walls of King’s Landing.

Before them on horseback sat Lord Davos Seaworth, Ser Jorah Mormont, Lord Varys, Missandei, their three loyal bloodriders, and Black Spider, the highest-ranking captain Grey Worm left in charge of the Unsullied. Visenya thought someone was missing. As her mind raced, trying to recollect who was not present, it finally came to her. _Where is Tyrion?_ Wondering where their future Warden of the West had gone, she twisted back and forth, looking around for the Lord of Casterly Rock. _He is likely harassing some poor lord, trying to affect his own battle plans with some foolish plan that is overcomplicated._

The longer they waited, the more time Visenya had to think about Jon. He was the greatest swordsmen she knew, but he would be outnumbered in the Red Keep. There was also the possibility of Jaime Lannister laying a trap in the passageways beneath the city. One could easily surround an enemy and kill them in the dark confines below King’s Landing. And then there was the threat of wildfire. _Fire cannot kill a dragon, but the shear force and destruction from the wildfire can. I must trust him. He promised he would return. He has never lied to me. He better not start now._

Just when she was beginning to think they would be waiting hours in the fields outside King’s Landing, Visenya saw flaming arrows loosed above Cobbler’s Square behind the Gate of the Gods. _Thank the old gods._ Glancing to her right, she nodded her head to Daenerys and Rhaenys, letting them know she was ready for the battle to begin.

“Sound the horns,” Ser Jorah Mormont ordered the horn blowers standing to his right beside their advisors. As the horns blasted through the air, Visenya made out the sounds of horns answering the call for battle across their lines stretching from the end of the Blackwater Rush to the Iron Gate.

“Forward march!” Black Spider commanded in his Astapori-accented Valyrian. As always, the Unsullied followed their orders and began the march toward the Gate of the Gods and the wall to its left. While their army began the steady approach toward the city, Visenya watched as the men guarding the walls of King’s Landing were rushing to their posts. _They expected Jon to follow through with his promise to attack at midday._

Just as Drogon began to spread his wings next to her, Visenya yelled for her dragon to take to the sky, “Sovegon!”. With one swift kick off the ground by Silverclaw and the beat of her wings, she was flying above their Unsullied marching directly toward the westermen protecting the Gate of the Gods. As he passed overhead, she made sure to glance down at the battering ram being pushed down the road toward the well-protected gate.

Leaving it to Daenerys, Visenya pulled on the spikes of Silverclaw to bank left toward the Old Gate to begin her attack. With her came Vyraxes and Darkskye, followed closely by Sonar. Without Jon, the bronze scaled beast would follow her into battle while Vermithrex went with Daenerys and Stormfyre with Rhaenys. _We need to reach the Old Gate before the Blackfish reaches the walls. We need as many men as possible for the war to come._ “Faster Silverclaw,” she commanded in High Valyrian.

Heeding her command, Silverclaw beat her wings as fast as she could. In mere moments, they were upon the Old Gate. The wall looked to be manned mostly by sellswords from Essos with no identifiable banners flying overhead. Visenya did not recognize the armor worn by the men below as she pushed on her dragon’s spikes, guiding Silverclaw and the three dragons that followed into a descent toward the parapets. As she levelled off above the wall, the bells of King’s Landing rang out across the sky, letting everyone know the battle had begun.

“Dracarys!” she cried with fury. With fire coursing through her Valyrian blood, her eyes brimmed with pride as she burned away their enemies. _I will show no mercy to these men who fight for gold and a mad queen who would see this city burnt to the ground so she could be queen of the ashes._

One by one, dozens of men were engulfed in the dragonfire that blazed a trail of fire and blood along the wall leading toward the Old Gate. Some of the men were lucky enough to loose their arrows before meeting their end. The sight of the first archer holding his bow caused Visenya to duck her head back behind the safety of Silverclaw’s impenetrable scales. The sound was faint, but she could hear the arrow tips bouncing off the silver scales of her mount.

True to her nature, the arrows only encouraged Silverclaw to rain down more fire upon their enemies. Steadying her attack as they reached the parapets over the Old Gate, Visenya felt the sunlight cooling on her skin as a shadow passed overhead. Darkskye and Vyraxes flew ahead, attacking the trebuchets that were throwing boulders toward the approaching army from the Riverlands.

In a matter of seconds, the trebuchets were destroyed and no more boulders flew toward the men from the Riverlands. She could see thousands of men rushing toward the city, carrying ladders with them to scale the wall, impatient to see the gate fall. The first banners that caught her eye were those belonging to Houses Darry, Blackwood, and Whent. Each, Houses deeply loyal to House Targaryen. They would always have a place at her family’s hearth.

Finished with her attack upon the now undefended Old Gate, Visenya made for the Dragon Gate that was attacked by the Northern army led by her cousin, Robb Stark. Desperate to assist her cousin, she pushed her dragon to fly quickly toward the fighting ahead. Impeding her progress was the sight of scorpions below. Daring to attack the weapons that could potentially harm her dragons, Visenya sent Silverclaw into another dive toward the wall.

Only at the last moment did she see the Unsullied dismantling the weapons they wished to avoid. Breaking off her attack, Visenya swung away from the city, out toward the fields filled with Dothraki and northmen approaching the Dragon Gate. While able to reach the Old Gate before the Blackfish could face any resistance, Visenya found Robb and his forces loosing their arrows at the defenders atop the walls while struggling to climb the ladders under threat of crossbowmen.

The northern army did well to avoid the trebuchets, leaving gaps in their ranks so any projectile thrown would hit the dirt. It would take time for the westermen to adjust their aim, but Visenya would not allow it. Turning back into the city, Visenya went head-on toward the Dragon Gate with Vyraxes to her right and Darkskye and Sonar to her left. _These fools should have abandoned their lords._

Visenya did not need to utter the command before Silverclaw spread her wings, coming to a halt over the gate. She could feel the great power her dragon possessed underneath her as Silverclaw unleashed her flames upon the soldiers below. Her dragon held her position, beating her wings while moving her head from left to right, burning every man within reach.

Holding place above the carnage, Visenya could smell the burnt flesh as the unluckiest of the men below flailed around, struggling to stand as they burned. Eventually, they all fell under the weight of the dragonflame burning through their armor and flesh. They were unfortunate to have been there and more unfortunate not to have died instantly in the firestorm. _Let this remind the lords of Westeros what happens when they threaten our family. We will bring our enemies fire and blood._

With the parapets above the Dragon Gate a ruin, Visenya pulled on the spikes of her dragon, leading Silverclaw to beat her wings. Backing away from the gate, she could see Umbers and Glovers rushing toward the gate with men from Winterfell carrying Stark banners next to their battering ram. Content with the path of destruction she had laid, she turned her gaze toward the only gate that remained.

Visenya could recall the details of countless sieges she learned of after reading the many history books she enjoyed as a Princess and now as a Queen. She knew sieges could last for hours, if not days. Some even lasted for months and a few memorable ones went on for over a year. _Those were led by weaker houses. We are dragons._

The fighting had not even started half an hour before and yet Visenya was determined to reach the Iron Gate as quickly as possible. _We will take back the city our ancestors built in an hour._ Flying toward the gate closest to Blackwater Bay, Visenya did not find any fighting within the city near the Dragon Pit or Flea Bottom to her right as she closed the distance toward the knights of the Vale, led by Lord Harrold Arryn.

Lord Harrold may be an Arryn, but he was now her family after being wed to her cousin Sansa Stark. Visenya would not fail him nor House Royce. Lord Yohn Royce was fiercely loyal to her father and a loyal friend to her uncle, Ned Stark. She knew she could always count on House Royce of Runestone. They would always stand behind House Targaryen after her mother wed her father. They were blood of the First Men, just as she was.

Visenya could see the stretch of wall standing past the Iron Gate was left relatively undefended by nature of the terrain before it. The wall extended to the royal gardens that reached the Red Keep along the steep, jagged slopes leading down to Blackwater Bay. Her point of attack would begin one thousand feet from the Iron Gate.

Relieving men from Houses Upcliff, Waxley, and Belmore, Visenya came upon the westermen and sellswords fending off the knights of the Vale attempting to climb the walls. The rain of boulders, arrows, and crossbolts was put to an end as her dragons created a firestorm along the heavily defended wall. The screams of death were short as the fire burned through them as quick as a flood pouring through the Trident. Darkskye did well to fly ahead, destroying the last of the trebuchets giving their armies trouble.

The parapets protecting the Iron Gate itself were spared Silverclaw’s fire as the soldiers guarding the gate fled. As she flew past, she could see the men scrambling past each other, every man for himself. Their desperation to get away from her dragons was clear for anyone to see as the westermen and sellswords ran down the stairs and into the alleys and buildings behind them. Some were already tossing aside their armor, afraid of what was to come once the knights of the Vale breached the gate. _The Spider will find them._

Flying over the large manses that bordered the edge of the royal gardens, Visenya nudged Silverclaw to bank toward Flea Bottom. As she expected, the streets and alleys of Flea Bottom looked worse than how her father had left them. _Flea Bottom was still Flea Bottom, but under his reign, it was improved._ It was not just the conditions of the city below that disappointed her. Looters could be seen below, stealing what they could from shops familiar to her. _They think to take advantage of the situation. They will meet the King’s justice._

Silverclaw crossed back and forth through the sky until they were finally flying over Rhaenys’ Hill. The Dragonpit was still in its crumbled condition, abandoned with no real purpose until now. Visenya knew they did not plan to restore the Dragonpit to its former glory, but they did agree the dragons would make their lair in the pit and its surrounding gardens. While circling over the neighborhoods that surrounded the Dragonpit, she began to see northmen riding through the streets with Dothraki close behind.

With Robb’s forces facing little resistance below, Visenya turned her attention to the rest of the city. Plumes of smoke rose from the burnt sections of the wall. Each gate had been attacked with dragonfire and each gate fell. She could not see their armies entering the city, but the sight of Daenerys flying above the center of King’s Landing told her all she needed to know. Their men had breached the Gate of the Gods and the Lion Gate.

Visenya was never partial to the Faith of the Seven and detested much of its history. She did not hold ill will toward its followers, but did hold some resentment toward the High Septons and most devout of the Faith who did their best to rid the Seven Kingdoms of House Targaryen. Despite her feelings, the sight of the rubbled mess that once was the Great Sept of Balor did bring on a slight sense of sadness. The Great Sept was an impressive structure and held the ashes of her ancestors. _That is all gone now._

Her brief thoughts regarding the Great Sept were lost to the wind when she noticed Rhaenys flying near the Red Keep. Myrax was flying lower than Silverclaw or Drogon over the city. Visenya could see her sister’s dragon roaring at their enemies below, occasionally releasing dragonfire down upon the streets below. _Stannis and his men must be getting close._

After one more careful pass over the wall between the Dragon Gate and the Iron Gate, Visenya turned Silverclaw around to fly toward the Red Keep. Targaryen banners stood over each gate with banners from the other houses fluttering in the wind along other parts of the wall. She was of no more use there, considering their armies were now within the city, doing what dragons could not.

Silverclaw flew as fast as she could, reaching the Red Keep in a matter of moments with Darkskye, Vyraxes, and Sonar close behind. Visenya urged her dragon to begin the dive toward the gate facing Visenya’s Hill so she could destroy the gate for their men to enter. Descending toward the ground, she could feel the air beating her carefully braided hair while she concentrated on the parapets below.

Squinting with the wind in her face, Visenya managed to make out the black banners with her House sigil painted on them, flying over the gate. Their Unsullied and household guard had taken the Red Keep and killed all the men protecting it. With just seconds left to break off her attack, Visenya pulled Silverclaw up and to her right, swinging around the Red Keep just behind Rhaenys on Myrax who abandoned her own attack.

Sticking close behind her sister as they swung past the cliff facing Blackwater Bay, Visenya followed her sister around to the outer yard of the Red Keep. As both their dragons spread their wings to halt the speed they carried, Visenya found Daenerys already landing just within the main gate of the Red Keep. With Drogon taking up the space he did, only Silverclaw and Myrax had space to land.

The moment Silverclaw’s feet touched the ground below, the silver-scaled dragon roared with all her fury with Drogon and Myrax, as if to let the people of King’s Landing know House Targaryen had returned. Before sliding down her dragon’s shoulder, Visenya quickly took in her surroundings, making sure it was safe to set foot within the familiar walls. While intimidating to their enemies, the black armor of her household guard and Unsullied warmed her heart. Their men stood along the parapets, near the gate, and at every corner of the yard from what she could see.

When Visenya settled her feet on the ground, she rested her hand on Dark Sister just in case fighting were to spill into the yard. Before she could walk away, Silverclaw pulled her back with a small purr, forcing Visenya to run her hand over her dragon’s snout. It was not until she sensed her silver-scaled beast was content that she withdrew to join Daenerys and Rhaenys a dozen yards from their dragons.

“How did we fare?” she asked her sister and Daenerys as all three stood abreast, looking up at the Red Keep.

“Most fled after the first attack,” Daenerys said, staring at the towers around Maegor’s Holdfast before turning to face her. “What about you?”

“More the same. Once our men were over the walls and through the gates, there was nothing to be done,” she replied, thinking about the enemies that now hid within the city. “And you sister?”

“A few hundred tried to flee from the Mud Gate when Lord Stannis took it, but Myrax burned the traitors,” Rhaenys replied, confirming what Visenya had witnessed from afar. _She should not have taken that risk. Innocents could have perished. Homes could have been lit aflame._

With nine of the dragons circling overhead, Visenya felt pride swell inside her as she failed to hide her smile. They had conquered Essos and freed the slaves. Jon and Daenerys had brought dragons back into the world. Now they had taken back what was rightfully theirs. _Jon will sit the Iron Throne and I will be his Queen. We will be his Queens._

As the Red Keep reminded her of the memories that filled her childhood, she also began to imagine the life her children would have within its walls. Visenya dreamed of her sons and daughters learning swordsmanship from their Kingsguard in the training yard. She tried to picture her beautiful daughters grown, in elegant dresses, enjoying the royal gardens. She could see her sons sitting small council meetings and learning to rule from their father.

Visenya’s feelings of hope and joy helped her forget the war to come and the loss her family had incurred. Those feelings faded with the sight of Ser Oswell Whent approaching in his bloodstained Kingsguard armor with six Targaryen soldiers with him. With his helm removed, she could see it on his face. The fighting within the Red Keep was not easy and Ser Barristan would need to save several pages in the White Book for this day.

“Your Graces,” Oswell welcomed them. It was only when he stood before them that she began to worry. The look on the Kingsguard’s face told her something was wrong. _Do not tell me the worst. I will not hear it._

“What is it? What is wrong?” Daenerys asked with a tremble in her voice.

Oswell looked back toward Maegor’s Holdfast and the rest of the keep before answering, “Maybe it is better if you see for yourself my Queen.”

“Please tell us Ser Oswell. Tell us our husband is well,” Rhaenys demanded, fearful of the dreaded answer. Visenya could not even bear to open her mouth, afraid to ask the question herself. _I cannot lose him._

“The King is fine your Graces. Please forgive me, I did not mean to worry you,” Oswell answered. The knight’s words were most welcome, saving her from a broken heart and a loss of self-purpose. _I would still have my children and family, but not my other half._

“Take us to him,” Daenerys commanded, receiving a nod from Ser Oswell.

Following Daenerys’ order, Ser Oswell turned on his feet to lead them toward the Throne Room. Slowly progressing through the yard, Visenya found twenty or more Unsullied had joined their guard, escorting them into the keep. It took some time to navigate the maze of stairs and walkways that eventually brought them to the structure that was built to intimidate the lords of Westeros. It was never intimidating to Visenya, it was her home and where she was raised.

As they climbed the marble stoned steps leading to the entrance hall, Visenya found their soldiers dragging corpses from the hall. One by one, their Unsullied were removing corpses wearing crimson armor. To her amusement, she saw three of Cersei’s Queensguard strewn across the ground in a pool of their own blood. At a first glance, the entrance hall had not seemed to change since she had last set foot in it. The banners of her House were still missing, but it appeared that their men were quick to remove the signs of Lannister rule. Not one lion was in sight.

“Open the doors for the Queens,” Ser Oswell ordered the two of her household guard protecting the large doors leading to the Throne Room.

When the doors parted, Visenya set her eyes upon the Iron Throne. The chair forged by the blades of Aegon’s enemies sat empty in the sunlight filtering through the eastern windows of the Throne Room. To her relief, she saw Jon standing at the stairs before the throne, looking at corpse lying at his feet. As they began to walk into the room, across the fine marble floor, they were forced to step to the side to avoid the largest corpse she had ever seen. _Tywin’s mad dog is finally dead._

The echo of their boots hitting the floor seemed to catch Jon’s attention as he lifted his gaze to meet her own. With just their Kingsguard present in the Throne Room by her account, Visenya rushed to close the distance between herself and Jon. Practically running into his embrace, she wrapped her legs around his waist and sealed her lips with his for a brief kiss. Knowing she could not steal him away, she eased her grip on his shoulders and set her feet on the ground. Visenya backed away for Rhaenys and Daenerys to feel their husband’s strong arms around them.

“Are you unhurt?” he asked, quickly looking over each of them after sharing a kiss with his other two Queens. In protest to his overprotectiveness and concern, she gently eased his soothing hand away from her cheek, shooting him a knowing glare. _Our dragons would never let harm come to us._

“If we were, King’s Landing would be burnt to the ground, would it not?” Daenerys replied.

“Aye,” Jon followed, smirking at her words.

“Is that her?” Rhaenys questioned, looking at the lifeless body face down on the steps at the foot of the Iron Throne. _That looks like Cersei’s hair, but why is she dressed in such a simple dress?_

Before she could step closer to look at Cersei’s face, she heard the familiar growl of a direwolf. Twisting her head to the left, she saw their direwolves along with Nymeria and her pack. Hoping to see her cousin, she looked around the Throne Room, eyes searching each corner for Arya. She was nowhere to be found. _Where is she? I have not seen her without the wolves at her side._

“Yes,” Jon answered, shooting a glance over his shoulder before facing them again. He looked conflicted and even angered about something, but she could not understand why. They had taken back what was theirs with few losses in short order.

“Tell me you were the one to put the sword through her heart,” Rhaenys said with hate in her voice.

“No.”

“Then who?” Visenya questioned, curious who delivered justice to the most evil woman she ever knew.

“Ser Jaime,” Jon said. _Jaime? He loved her. He fought for her. He abandoned his vows for her. Why?_

“Is he dead?” Rhaenys asked, not bothering to hide her concern for the Kingsguard she was closest to.

“Taken prisoner, in the black cells,” Jon answered, showing no signs of forgiveness for the former member of her father’s Kingsguard. Rhaenys was about to say something until Jon continued, “We do not have time to discuss Ser Jaime right now. You need to know the truth.”

 

_Bran is alive? Uncle Benjen as well?_ Visenya was still coming to terms with the good news Jon received from Winterfell. Part of her always clung to the small hope her uncle would return from beyond the Wall and Bran would return with the Reeds to Winterfell. She knew the odds of surviving beyond the Wall for years were low. To learn both were alive and well warmed her heart.

When Jon told them of the contents of the raven scroll, she felt nothing but joy, having reclaimed the Iron Throne, bringing justice to the murderers of their family, and learning of the survival of her kin. It was Jon’s gloomy face that warned her not all was well. There was more news from Winterfell. She prayed it was not true when Jon informed them of the betrayal. _I wish it were not, but Bran would not lie._

When she glanced over toward Jon and Daenerys, she could see the apprehension on their faces. Like her, they did not want this to be true. _I thought him a good man. I thought he was loyal to us. Why would he do this? After what she had done? After all this? Why?_

The longer they waited in the woods outside the Lion Gate, the longer Visenya had to think on the past and the road that led them to here. She questioned herself and her instincts. They could not have been more wrong. _Rhaenys was right._

While the truth shocked herself and Daenerys, her sister did not seem surprised in the least. She expected Rhaenys to remind them of her warnings and skepticism, but her sister remained silent. Rhaenys did not say a word, controlling her rage as they journeyed from the Red Keep, through the streets of King’s Landing, and off the Goldroad into the woods. _She would burn him if she could._

_Where are they?_ Visenya felt they should have made their way through the tunnels beneath King’s Landing by now. The woods were silent, without so much as a bird singing or winds blowing through the empty trees. No one spoke as they waited and listened for the traitor to approach. _You would not even know a battle had occurred. It is entirely peaceful here._

Despite the relative peace, their escort of Unsullied and household guard surrounded the area, looking out for an approaching enemy. She noticed their Kingsguard kept their swords in hand, failing to return them to their scabbards. _Do they fear an attack from the west or wish him dead as much as we do?_

It was only when she saw Silver’s ears pique that she knew they were approaching. Taking several steps forward to scratch her direwolf behind the ear, Visenya found herself at Daenerys’ side. She quickly looked back at their closest advisors who had come with them to see the King’s justice be done. Davos Seaworth looked skeptical and untrusting of what Bran had to say. Missandei and Grey Worm appeared to be just as angered as she was. Varys looked more disappointed than anything.

Visenya knew it was all true when they heard the opening of the hidden entrance to a tunnel leading into the city. The bush masking the escape route began to shake as the man they had been waiting for started to emerge. “We must be quick. I have two horses waiting for us,” she heard the familiar voice.

Emerging from the tunnel came Tyrion Lannister, leading who he thought was his sister. The sight of Cersei’s face was more unsettling than Visenya had expected. She could not see any signs that it wasn’t her. Arya did nothing to give away her true identity. _She is more dangerous than I thought. She learned her craft well in Braavos._

“Oh fuck,” Tyrion said, turning from Arya to find himself surrounded. It was clear to see it in his green eyes. He knew this was the end and there were no clever words that could save him from the fate that awaited him. For a brief moment, she could see his lips quiver underneath his beard. Tyrion knew he was a dead man, but he did well to manage the fear. “How did you know?” _Bran can see things. I will have to ask him more when we return to Winterfell._

“Does it matter?” Jon asked. Visenya could see the disappointment on her King’s face. It was clear in his voice. He had considered Tyrion a friend and trusted advisor. After he had killed his own father, Visenya thought they could count him as a loyal ally. He seemed genuine in his hatred for Cersei. _She tried to have him executed. Was it all a lie? Or did he change his mind?_

“I suppose not,” Tyrion said, looking down in defeat.

“Why?” Daenerys demanded, fuming next to her.

“Tommen and Myrcella were sweet innocent children. I was not going to allow you to kill another,” Tyrion replied before he turned around to find Arya discarding her disguise. She could see he understood Cersei’s fate by the grim look on his face. He risked his own life for nothing, saving a sister who was already dead.

“It wasn’t us who killed Cersei. It was Jaime,” Rhaenys informed him, reveling in the torment. She knew her sister never trusted Tyrion. She always thought him to be closer to Tywin than his siblings and warned them of his betrayal. “Your sister played you for a fool. You think Jaime would have killed her if she were with child?”

“How will you do it? Fire?” Tyrion asked, fearful of the justice he would face. _If it were Rhaenys’ decision alone, Myrax would burn him before feasting on his charred flesh._

“The old way,” Jon said, waving two of their household guard to come forth, grabbing Tyrion by the arms. He may have betrayed them in an attempt to save Cersei’s life, but Visenya admired the way he faced his execution. He did not act like a coward, fighting off their men or pleading for his life. _He made a choice and he chose wrong. We forgave him for fighting Stannis on the Blackwater and serving as Joffrey’s Hand. We will not forgive again._

“Any last words?” Jon asked as he unsheathed Blackfyre, walking toward Tyrion held against an executioner’s block brought forth by another of their guards. When Visenya looked to her brother, she was reminded of her uncle, Ned Stark. Jon looked like a Stark and the way he held his sword brought back the memory of Ned Stark executing a deserter from the Night’s Watch all those years ago. Hearing silence, she let her eyes fall to Tyrion. Their once trusted advisor simply shook his head, not caring to share any last words.

“I, Jon of the House Targaryen, First of My Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, sentence you to die,” Jon said. After the words were spoken, she carefully followed Jon’s hands tighten around Blackfyre’s grip as he lifted the Valyrian steel sword that was wielded by Aegon the Conqueror. Striking true, Jon brought his sword down upon Tyrion’s neck with one swift blow. It brought neither herself nor Jon any pleasure seeing Tyrion’s head roll across the ground.

_I do not like it, but it had to be done. He left us no choice. He chose Cersei over us. He chose Cersei over the Realm. That could not be forgiven. I thought we knew him. He did not want to hurt his family after all. Would I have done the same? Would I have sided with my grandfather had he lived? Would I be mad like him?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter yet. A lot happened, Targaryens retake Iron Throne, Jaime kills Cersei, Jon kills Tyrion, Bran & Benjen alive, first Jon/Dany/Senya/Rhae in awhile. Wish I could do better writing the battle scenes. All they have left is the Night King. Beating him will not come as easily. Next chapter, Long May They Reign, will be Sunday w/ POVs from Elia, Visenya, Jon, Rhaenys, & Daenerys.
> 
> Tell me what you think & leave any questions in the comments.


	38. Long May They Reign

**Elia Martell**

The journey from Dragonstone across Blackwater Bay to King’s Landing was a short one, but Elia was glad to be off their ship. The winds were kind and the waters calm. Unlike herself during her youth, her grandchildren were well-acclimated to long voyages at sea. The two days’ sail from Dragonstone was nothing to them and she was reminded of their resilience to the unsettling nature of the seas. _Are they Targaryens or Velaryons?_

From what Elia could see, King’s Landing had changed little in the five years she had spent in Essos. The Red Keep looked the same as did the walls protecting the city and the small dock they were approaching near the Mud Gate. What had changed was the overflowing docks at the mouth of the Blackwater Rush and the soldiers standing guard atop the walls. The sight of black painted sails with the sigil of House Targaryen stretched as far as the eye could see. Some of the ships anchored offshore to her left belonged to Houses Manderly, Redwyne, Velaryon, and Greyjoy. _Have the Seven Kingdoms ever seen a fleet this size?_

Still hundreds of feet from shore, the winds quickened, reminding her the long summer was gone and winter was here. The cold clearly upset her namesake, wrapped securely in a grey wool blanket in her arms. Determined the keep the princess warm, she held her granddaughter closer, trying to shield her from the uncharacteristically cool breeze rolling across the bay. When the babe continued to cry, Elia realized it was not the unsettling winds that disturbed her, but the absence of her mother. _Your mother will hold you soon._

“Kios!” little Prince Brandon yelled, pointing to sky above them as the sun-orange dragon soared above them toward the pier ahead. Elia could see the royal retinue waiting for them. Elia watched the dragon fly over walls of King’s Landing before twisting in the air to join the other dragons circling the Red Keep. _I wish Rhaegar and Aegon were alive to see this. They would have claimed dragons for themselves. Great dragonlords they would have been._

The sight brought her joy and despair. Dragons in the sky above King’s Landing meant her family had reclaimed their rightful place on the Iron Throne, ruling the Seven Kingdoms. _We have seen justice done to Cersei and House Lannister._ But the happiness she found did not extinguish the feeling of depression knowing her husband never had the chance to see his dream fulfilled. Rhaegar always spoke to her of dragons and his wish to bring them back. _He was stolen from us. Aegon was stolen from us. They would be proud to see Jon reclaim what is ours._

“Look, the Red Keep!” Sansa pointed to their home with her unbraided silver mane blowing free in the wind. Sansa may have not shared her blood but she was her family. Elia loved her as much as any of Rhaenys’ children just as she loved Jon as a son and Visenya as a daughter. _I would do anything for them._ “Look Grandmother, look! Maegor’s Keep and the Great Hall!”

“Yes, yes, I see,” she answered the giddy princess, who looked like a girl ready to receive presents on her nameday. Elia managed to keep the children preoccupied while they were parted from their parents. Most of them stuck close to Rhaella, having never met their great-grandmother before setting foot on Dragonstone. Each day, she explored a part of the castle and somewhere on the island that was new to the children. “Sansa, stop jumping before you fall into the water!” she commanded, seeing the excitement overwhelm the girl who edged closer and closer to the side of their boat.

As much as they tried to make the children forget their father and mothers were gone, Elia knew they grew more restless as the days passed. The four eldest princesses seemed to take the separation worst of all in her estimation. _They miss Jon. And they have learned he can hardly tell them no._

After doting upon the babe in her arms and looking into her grey Stark eyes, Elia found the sailors were nearing the pier with Jon, Rhaenys, Visenya, and Daenerys eagerly waiting to be reunited with their children. By her rough count, their must have been one hundred men behind them, standing guard. A crowd of smallfolk had gathered along shore on either side of the pier, waiting to see the little princes and princesses of House Targaryen. _Did Cersei’s rule bring them to long for the days when dragons ruled the Seven Kingdoms or are they scurrying rats looking for favor?_

Rhaella’s boat was the first to reach the pier with Snow leaping off to set her paws upon firm ground, away from the rocking waves of the Blackwater. Arya was the first of the children to run to Jon, being scooped up in his arms as she expected. Sansa and Daenys looked ready to jump from the bow as they failed to sit still, seeing their elder sisters and brothers embracing their parents.

When the Targaryen soldiers threw the lines to the sailors on her boat, Elia waited as the little ones standing in front of her were lifted from the boat by Ser Jonothor and Ser Oswell, who had already assisted emptying the boat carrying Lyanna, Zokla, and the remaining children. Requiring a helping hand, Ser Jonothor aided her step onto the elevated pier while she carefully clutched Princess Elia.

“Mother,” Rhaenys greeted her with a welcoming hug before snatching the princess from her arms. Nothing made her happier than seeing Rhaenys with her children. If her daughter was not a Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and surrounded by peering eyes, Elia knew her daughter’s eyes would be tearing with joy. “I’ve missed you my sweet little princess. I love you,” Rhaenys whispered to the babe in her arms.

Their family had only been parted for a fortnight, but the reunion lasted for nearly half an hour as Rhaenys, Visenya, and Daenerys made sure to hold each child in their arms before embarking on the short ride back to the Red Keep. When they abandoned the pier for the waiting horses and wheelhouses at the Mud Gate, she heard dozens of the people call her name. They also called for Lyanna and Rhaella, hoping to get a wave of the hand or some form of acknowledgement from the Queens they had known. But it was not their names that were shouted the most. Calls for Queen Daenerys, Queen Rhaenys, Queen Visenya, and King Jon rang through the crowds. _They do like the image of a young king and his queens._

After Elia settled into the wheelhouse waiting for her, she peered outside to look for some of her grandchildren expecting them to join her. Only two of the maids looking after Prince Maelor and Princess Elia had joined her. Just when she thought to step out of the wheelhouse and look for them, she found the eldest of the children settling into the saddles of ponies brought to them by the Dothraki. Targaryen banners flew over the city of King’s Landing, but Elia could not ignore the trepidation inside her.

“Do not worry, no one will try anything with the direwolves nearby and the dragons in the sky,” Lyanna warned her as she stepped into the wheelhouse taking the seat next to her. When Lyanna turned to her after settling in, she gave her a funny look. “What?”

“I did not expect you to confine yourself in here,” she replied, knowing Lyanna’s love for horseback riding. The ride from the Mud Gate to the Red Keep was a short and uneventful one, but Lyanna’s love for horses led her to believe she would protest riding in the wheelhouse.

“Does it look like I have the attire to ride on horseback?” Lyanna asked, eyeing her own red dress with hints of black around the waist and shoulders. _It hasn’t stopped you before._

“Arya and Dany look ready to race through the streets,” she said as she observed the princesses urge their ponies into a light gallop, riding in circles until their retinue entered the gate.

“They were born to it,” Lyanna answered as she felt the jolt of their wheelhouse moving forward as the guards outside yelled for the street to clear ahead. Elia was quickly reminded of the army her family had brought to King’s Landing when she found their route into the city was lined by soldiers. It was mostly Unsullied and Dothraki guarding the Mud Gate but she soon found their retinue protected by soldiers from the Stormlands holding back the smallfolk hoping to get a glimpse of royalty.

“Yes, they are,” she confirmed as she waved to a group of small children awestruck by the sight of the direwolves and the King of the Seven Kingdoms riding through Fishmonger’s Square. While some may shrug at the sight of a direwolf after seeing dragons for the first time, Elia knew the large beasts were just as intimidating when seen close up. “It has not changed much.”

“King’s Landing? No, I suppose not,” Lyanna answered. _Well, except for Visenya’s Hill, it is the same as are the people. Their minds are malleable and ready to switch allegiance any moment._ “I must say, I do not care for the smell of fish.”

“We shall have Jon decree fish be sold outside the city walls,” Elia jested, knowing there were far greater concerns Jon would have to address now that he sat the Iron Throne.

“Kings have made far worse laws,” Lyanna laughed before turning back to wave to the people on the other side of the street. All trade had come to a halt within the square as House Targaryen made its way toward the Red Keep. Of the thousands who lined their path from the Mud Gate, Elia failed to spot a grim look amongst the smallfolk.

Elia mistrusted the people of King’s Landing, but she was beginning to wonder if Cersei’s acts as a false queen had earned fear and contempt from the smallfolk. Destroying the Great Sept of Baelor surely set even the less devout followers of the Faith against her. _Could it just be the fear of the dragons? Or is it something else? Do they see a time of peace lying ahead? I pray they do._

Shortly after passing through Fishmonger’s Square, their wheelhouse broke off from the street onto The Hook where she briefly caught the view of Rhaegar and his three eldest brothers proudly riding beside their father. Elia was happy to see the little princes trying to mirror their father’s actions. They thought the world of him and always talked about the great warriors they would become like their father. She did nothing to quell their dreams, but Elia silently prayed those dreams would never come to pass. _I pray they never see a battlefield. Let them live in a time of peace._

Like Fishmongers Square, The Hook was crowded with people lining the streets outside their homes, shops, inns, and pubs. Unlike the Muddy Way, Elia found their path guarded by Dothraki without the smell of fishers selling their catches. The people watching them pass by even hung out the windows of the homes overlooking the streets, never taking their eyes off the spectacle below except for a loud roar from Vermithrex overhead.

It seemed the masses waiting to see them only grew as they neared the Red Keep. Feeling the wheelhouse level out on even ground, Elia took note of the homes outside her window and recognized the familiar sight. They were just outside the walls of the Red Keep and would soon end their short journey from the Mud Gate. The last hundred feet before passing through the gate were lined with thousands of people held back by two lines of Unsullied. She found it amusing to see some of the children perched on the shoulders of their fathers, hoping to see their King and Queens. _Or maybe they just want to see a direwolf._

The moment the wheelhouse came to a halt in the outer yard, Elia stepped out before one of their guards could attempt to assist her. As she expected, the children were already making the keep their own, running ahead toward the steps leading to Maegor’s Holdfast and the several imposing structures that made up the Red Keep. _We are home, finally._

As she fell in behind Rhaenys and Visenya, Elia noticed the heavy presence of armed men inside the keep. Nearly every corner was guarded by the Unsullied or a man of their household guard. One could not walk ten paces along the walls without passing a soldier with a spear in hand. After what happened to her husband and son, she guessed Jon would make this the norm. He never took the safety of their family lightly and would not allow a repeat of Meereen and Pentos.

With the Kingsguard and the eldest of their children leading the way, their party climbed the steps that would take them to the Throne Room. Elia wanted to find her new chambers within Maegor’s Holdfast, but understood why they would visit the Throne Room first. It was all Arya and Senya spoke of during the short journey from Dragonstone. Both sisters loved to sit on their father’s throne at Dragonstone and they were eager to sit upon a throne made of swords.

When they finally reached the marble stairs leading to the grand Entrance Hall before the Throne Room, Elia prepared herself for what she had to face. She had not set foot inside since she lost her husband and her son. Promising herself that she would fight off the tears brimming in her eyes, she willed herself forward. _This is supposed to be a joyous day._

The painting of Aegon The Conqueror destroying Harrenhal was the first thing that caught her attention. She expected every trace of House Targaryen to be destroyed by Joffrey or Cersei. _I expected paintings of Casterly Rock and battles from history won by the Lannister Kings of the Westerlands._ “How?” was all she could get out as she stared at the painting, there to remind the lords coming to bend the knee of the power of their House.

“The Throne Room is changed, but Varys managed to preserve most of it. He said Cersei and Joffrey kept these as trophies, telling the lords they had conquered the dragons,” Jon said, shaking his head next to her. As they both stared at the painting Balerion unleashing his flames, she felt Jon’s hand hold her own. “You do not need to see the Throne Room if you do not want to. I understand…”

“No, it is alright. Thank you,” she replied, earning a nod from Jon. As he turned toward the doors leading to the Throne Room, Elia halted him. Pulling him in for a hug, she whispered, “I am proud of you, my son. Your father and brother would have been proud too. I hope you know that.”

“Aye, I fear will never be the King Father was. Aegon would have made for a great King,” Jon said with a shaky voice. Elia knew he still mourned for his brother and father after all these years. They were a part of him as was Ned Stark. _They shaped the man he is today and they were ripped away. He no longer has a brother to rely on nor a father to guide him. He must become that for his sons._

“Aegon would have been a great King,” she affirmed, wishing her other son was still with them. “But we cannot change the past. Follow your heart and do what you think is right and you will be the greatest King this realm has ever seen.”

She could see the self-doubt in his eyes when he compared himself to his brother or father, but Elia believed her words. _Jon will be the greatest King House Targaryen has had and his Queens will be there to help him build a stronger realm._ When she let him go, Elia fought the urge to say more, knowing Jon was not one to bask in the praise from others. Her eyes followed him as he joined Rhaenys and Daenerys near the doors leading to the Throne Room. _If my words do not remind him of what he can do, theirs will._

 

 

**Visenya Targaryen**

The doors to the Throne Room parted as Visenya followed Jon through the opening with Maekar in her arms. Her son was still just a babe and needed her constant attention. While his little fingers fumbled at the collar of her dress, trying to grasp anything he could get his hands on, she stepped into the hall. Their eldest burst through the doors as soon as the Unsullied gave them entry.

Visenya was still unused to the changes made to the Throne Room since they fled King’s Landing. Instead of the decorations reminding her of her family’s Valyrian ancestry and House sigil, they reminded her of the loss of her brother and father. The glass windows would take some time to replace, but everything else would be removed by the time of their coronation in a sennight.

They were not even halfway through the hall when Visenya set her eyes on Arya sitting the Iron Throne with Rhaegar, whispering something into his ear. While some may have seen innocent children at play, she saw the future of their House in all their children. “They will make a great King and Queen of Westeros someday,” she stated, watching the scene next to Jon.

“They are just children. When they come of age, they will choose who they wish to wed,” Jon answered, firmly against any betrothals. Visenya did not mind who their children wed, just as long as it was another Targaryen. _With dragons returned to the world, we need to stick together. We cannot let others break us apart. I will not allow it if it is the one good thing I do as Queen._

“Were we not so different when we were their age?” Daenerys asked, smiling for she knew Jon remembered all of their childhood. Visenya did not forget. She remembered Daenerys always pretending to be Jon’s Queen until they reached the age when they understood what their words meant.

“I suppose not, but they have their entire lives ahead of them. Let them be,” he said, smiling as Eddard, Jon, and Aegon chased their sisters around the Iron Throne before snaking around the marbled columns to her right.

“Look Mother! Look!” Arya called for Daenerys. The little princess reminded her so much of Daenerys whenever she saw her bright smile, with only her father’s eyes hinting at her northern ancestry. “Rhaegar will be King one day and we will sit here.”

“Will you?” Daenerys laughed at the innocence behind the words.

“Rhaegar promised me. I will be his Queen, like you and father,” Arya proclaimed, leaning her head against her brother’s shoulder.

“Is that true my son?” Daenerys questioned the Crown Prince, who looked just like Jon at his age, except for his eyes. Visenya admired the black doublet with subtle hints of red woven into it with intricate patterns reminding her of dragon scales. Daenerys made sure to order the seamstresses make similar clothes for the other princes, especially for the coronation that was just days away.

“We promised each other in the godswood. Grandmother said we should never lie in the godswood,” Rhaegar answered. Visenya could not fight the smirk on her lips, remembering her mother telling her something similar as a child.

“Aye, you shouldn’t lie in the godswood and never to family. Listen to me,” Jon said, taking the short steps up to the throne before laying his hands on both of the children’s shoulders. “You are too young to worry about such things. When you are old enough and understand, you will find someone you love and marry them and never let them go.”

“We love each other,” Arya replied, leaving a peck on Rhaegar cheek before smiling at them all.

“Aye,” Jon said, giving up on the lost cause of explaining the matters of marriage to Arya and Rhaegar.

“She will drive you mad when she is older,” Visenya heard a familiar northern accent behind her. Turning on her heels, she found her cousin Arya Stark standing there next to her mother and Elia.

“Arya, come here,” Daenerys called for the princess. She saw the little princess push her way through Daenerys and Rhaenys before Daenerys pulled on the little girl’s shoulder to stand before her. With both hands now resting on little Arya’s shoulders, Visenya saw the girls’ small grey eyes try to read this new stranger. _They are just alike._ “Arya, this who you were named after, your aunt Arya Stark.”

Before either could say a word, the little princess leapt into the open arms of the cousin Visenya thought she had lost. They had never known each other before this day, but she would have sworn both held a deep bond with one another. It was as if they had been parted for years and were finally reunited. A tear managed to slip from her cousin’s eye, something she had never seen before. _Crying was for ladies, I think she said._

“Mother says you know how to shoot arrows,” the princess said, looking up with admiration toward the woman she was named after.

“Aye, after you’ve found your room and settled in, I’ll show you how to loose an arrow,” her cousin responded, ruffling her namesake’s silver hair into a little mess as Jon used to do. A giggle erupted from Arya as she clung to her aunt’s side. _It will be hard separating those two._

“Father, can we go to our rooms now? Please?” Arya pleaded, letting her big grey eyes work their charms on her father. Visenya had seen this trick many times before and it always worked. Jon always crumbled under the pleas from their daughters and Arya being the oldest, learned to take advantage of his weakness when it suited her. _She will only get worse as she grows older._

“Fine, my sweet little princess,” Jon said, lifting Arya off the ground, making her giggle with joy knowing she had gotten her way.

“Dany! Jon!” she called her eldest over from one of the columns they hid behind. “We can come back here later, we are going to find your bedchambers. If you behave, you may even get a room with a view of the sea.”

“Can we see Dragonstone from it?” Jon questioned, not realizing how far away the island was.

“No, my sweetling, I am afraid not,” she said as she knelt to smooth out the raven curls around his face.

“But what about Grandmother Rhaella? We don’t want to leave her,” her eldest son replied, with Dany nodding her head next to him with a worried look that told her everything. They had already formed a close bond with their great grandmother and were not about to let her go.

“Your grandmother is not leaving, I promise. She will live here now, with us,” she said before looking around so none of the other children were around. “Do you want to hear a secret? We will be visiting Winterfell soon. You will get to see your Uncle Bran and Rickon.”

“But we just got here. You said this was home,” Dany said with a saddened face. Visenya could see some of their children were tired of moving from city to city, never setting roots in one place.

“Aye, I did. And I swear it, we will return. Your father has to lead the realm against evil monsters and fight them off,” she said, hoping her words were not enough to frighten Jon and Dany.

“Promise?” Dany said.

“I promise,” she replied, placing a gentle kiss on her daughter’s head before guiding them toward the corridor leading to Maegor’s Holdfast and the chambers reserved for House Targaryen.

 

“Jon, Nuha Darys,” Visenya whimpered as she rolled her hips with Jon’s cock filling her cunt. Her walls were beginning to close around him as she did her best to endure through her tired muscles that were stretched thin. Jon knew their bodies and fulfilled their wants effortlessly as their lover and husband. When their lovemaking started on the terrace, Visenya felt he had done enough to please her wants. She was thoroughly ravaged when he fucked her against the wall on the terrace with his face buried in her breasts.

“Visenya…Don’t….You’re so,” he stammered over his own words, as she rode him with all her passion and love, focused on coaxing everything out of him. She wanted to look into the eyes she fell in love with when she was just a princess and he a second prince of House Targaryen. _Now he is my King and I his Queen._

As his words failed him, she felt the familiar feeling of his cock inside her, ready to give her his seed. When his hand dropped from kneading her breast to place a firm grip on her hips, she met his tired thrusts with her own until Daenerys’ efforts on her clit were too much just as Jon spilled inside her. She did not pray for her womb to quicken for she already thought she was with child. _Our last. I pray they are born to a short winter._

Attempting to recollect herself, Visenya closed her eyes as her chest beat like a drum and her lungs struggled for air. Daenerys and Rhaenys did nothing to help the matter as they continued to fondle her breasts as they rose and fell with her breaths while kissing her neck. A sheen of sweat covered all four of them as their chambers smelled of their lovemaking. If it weren’t for her duties to her House and family, Visenya would have felt content doing nothing else for the rest of her days.

Thoroughly spent and exhausted, Visenya gently fell into Jon’s embrace, lying on his chest. After listening to his strong heart hammer at a steady rhythm with her ear against his chest, she finally looked into his eyes staring up at her own. She smiled back at him while one hand brushed aside loose strands of her hair while another gently smoothed over her hip, keeping her from leaving. _I would never think to leave. This is what I always wanted. Nothing else._

“I wish we could stay like this. Never leave this bed and leave the realm to fend for itself,” she said, gently tracing her finger along the faint scar across his left eye, a reminder of the battle at Castle Black. Visenya never wanted his face disfigured but she could not deny she thought the scar an attractive new feature she learned to love. It told a story. Whenever she gazed upon his face, she knew she was not wed to some southern knight who boasted of victories at tourney. _I am wed to a dragonlord, with the blood of Old Valyria and the First Men. The world’s finest swordsman, who has never seen defeat._

“You are a Queen. If that is your wish, there is no one who can order you from these chambers,” Jon replied, earning a disagreeing laugh from Daenerys, snuggled against his side.

“And what kind of Queen would I be if I did? No, that is just a dream. Our children need their mother and the realm needs its Queen,” she replied, capturing his lips that still tasted like Daenerys.

“They seem to like it here,” Rhaenys said, noticeably running her leg along her own. _She still thirsts for more._

“Let’s hope they do not like King’s Landing too much,” Jon replied. She understood what he meant. Sometimes she agreed, thinking it was the worst place in the world. _Meereen did well to dispel that notion._

“We should visit Summerhall and Dragonstone as often as possible,” her sister added.

“If we defeat the dead,” Visenya mumbled against Jon’s chest, having to remind herself of the threat looming in the North. She felt free whenever thoughts of the Night King and his army escaped her mind. She always welcomed the reprieve from such dreaded thoughts that weighed on her almost as much as they did Jon.

“Hey,” Jon said, lifting her chin with his fingers to look into her eyes. “We will defeat them. I swear it. I will not let our children grow up living in fear. They will see a long spring and a longer summer without worrying about the dead.”

“I know,” she said, not entirely sure of her owns words because she knew the threat their enemy posed. She saw it on his face whenever he spoke of them. The Night King and his army were the only things that ever truly struck fear in Jon.

“I thought it was just us tonight? I remember swearing not to speak about the matters of the realm as long as we were in this bed,” Rhaenys said before sealing her lips with Jon while resting a hand on Visenya’s hip.

“You are right, my love,” Jon replied.

“It still feels odd,” she admitted, thinking about where they slept. Visenya thought of the King’s chambers as her parents’ chambers, never expecting herself to one day call them her own. _I always thought it would be Aegon’s and Rhaenys’ after Father and our mothers grew old._

“What does?” Rhaenys asked.

“This, sleeping in these chambers,” she confessed.

“We can always move our things to Jon’s old chambers,” Daenerys jested. It did not sound like such a terrible idea in her head. Visenya dreamed of sneaking into his room when she was younger, hoping to find him a willing lover, ready to take her maidenhead. She never acted on it, knowing Daenerys could be found inside. Part of her longed to share such memories with Jon. All of their time together was spent in Essos, never in King’s Landing. _We shall make new memories._

“Our girls would gladly take these chambers,” Rhaenys added, laughing at such thoughts.

“They would, wouldn’t they,” Jon replied, smiling at the mere mention of their daughters. “Did they go to sleep when you tucked them in?”

“You know them. Arya and Nymeria are likely leading the rest to sneak off into one of their chambers,” Rhaenys guessed. Visenya knew her sister was not wrong. She had caught her daughters several times out of bed, staying awake later than they should have. Part of her wanted to send them off, back to their own beds whenever they did so. But another part of her admired their adventurous side and the close bond they shared. She could still remember the times she stayed awake in her sister’s chambers with Daenerys and Allyria.

“As long as they do not get up to any mischief, I see no problem with it. What do they stay up talking about?” he questioned.

“Oh, you know, things little princesses love to talk about. Dresses, jewels, dragons, direwolves, and swords,” Daenerys said, laughing at her last words, knowing their daughters were not typical princesses the realm would expect. _No, they are dragons._

“As long as they aren’t talking about boys for many years to come,” her husband said. She could not help but smirk at his concern. _If he is going to lose sleep over that, I fear he will have many restless nights in the years to come._

“Speaking of the future, some of the ladies at court are starting to propose betrothals. The Hightowers seem determined to wed one of their little girls to Rhaegar,” Daenerys said. Visenya was not in the great hall at the time when Daenerys and Rhaenys received dozens of the ladies who had travelled to King’s Landing to curry favor with their House. _Snakes, all of them. Not one of their sons or daughters will wed a dragon if I have anything to say about it._

“And you told them no?” Jon asked.

“Of course. They are fools to think we would give away our children’s future so easily,” Daenerys answered. “The trouble will come when these harlots and two-faced young lords are thrown at our children when they are of age. We must prepare them before any plots are thrust upon them.”

Visenya agreed with Daenerys’ words, remembering her own mother and Elia warning her about the young lords that would attempt to seduce her and her sister. One could not put it past the lords of Westeros to send their daughters and sons after a prince or princess with the hope of getting a child born to them. With the return of the dragons, it was even more important for their children to be on guard.

_I will not allow another Dance. Hightower, Bracken, Stokeworth, Florent, Corbray, Manderly, and the rest. I will not allow any of them to get dragonriders and divide us._

“I am glad those days are far ahead. I can’t help but feel time is slipping through my fingers. I still remember the day Rhaegar and Arya were born like it was yesterday and now they are five. It has gone by too quickly and we can never get those moments back,” her husband said, frustrated by how quickly the children seemed to grow. Their children’s youth was a precious time that Visenya tried to enjoy and did not take any of it for granted. _Before we know it, they will be wed and have children of their own. Gods, I will be a grandmother like my own mother. Seven hells._

“There are still many memories yet to be forged and I look forward to them all,” Daenerys said before Visenya opened her hooded eyes to find her capturing Jon’s lips savoring his taste while her hips involuntarily thrust into his side.

When Daenerys finally parted from their husband’s full lips and nuzzled into his side, Visenya let her eyes fall. Her body was limp and worn from their lovemaking that was sure to continue on the morrow before they were to meet with several lords in addition to representatives from the Citadel and the Starry Sept. Her mind could not deal with those thoughts as she left a final peck on Jon’s chest before she inhaled his scent one last time before falling asleep.

Their conversation led to her mind picturing their family’s future. A future with children sneaking in the hidden passages of the Red Keep to each other’s rooms, her sons learning the sword from their father, teaching her daughters how to shoot a bow, and her children finding their true love.

Visenya fell asleep with visions of princes and princesses running along the lake at Summerhall, riding horses through the Wolfswood, her sons hunting in the Kingswood, her daughters dancing at a feast in Dorne in an unfamiliar castle, and her family standing on the walls of an unknown keep in the North. But as her dreams filled with images of her children, they always ended with her time with Jon, Daenerys, and Rhaenys. The love they shared was unbreakable and nothing would come between them. No lord, conflict, or otherwise could find a divide amongst them.

 

 

**Jon Targaryen**

Seated at the head of the table in the Small Council Chamber, Jon stared down the new High Septon and the Most Devout until they removed themselves from his presence. He was not pleased to learn of a High Septon being chosen without the counsel of House Targaryen. The leader of the Faith and the men who chose him arrived in King’s Landing in the morning and Jon received them so he could send them back to the Starry Sept as soon as possible.

Jon could see the High Septon and the Most Devout were disappointed to find a King they could not influence. It did not take long for the men from the Starry Sept to voice their demands for reform and change across the Seven Kingdoms. They wished to ban other faiths, including the Old Gods south of the Neck. He was disappointed in the old men’s veiled threats toward House Targaryen’s alliance with the Red Temple of Volantis because there was nothing behind it. The Faith Militant had been destroyed in King’s Landing by Cersei and what presence it did have outside the city walls dissolved shortly after.

When their backs were turned to him, he looked to Visenya, who was angered after listening to their criticism of those who stilled prayed to the Old Gods. She did not believe the gods played any role in this world, but Jon knew she cared for those who held to the faith of the First Men. _Mother still prays to the Old Gods. If the High Septon and Devout think they have any power over us, they are mistaken._

“Old fools, they think they can come here and demand we build them another sept,” Rhaenys said, not willing to fund the Faith with Targaryen gold. _It would earn goodwill with the many followers of the Faith, but we are a kingdom of many faiths. We can no longer show one preference over another._

“If they were wise, they would have held their tongues regarding the Old Gods,” Visenya followed.

“Your Graces, would it not be wise to build them a Great Sept and bring the Faith back into the fold. Not the septons, mind you, but the Faith’s many followers,” Varys suggested, knowing they could easily remove the High Septon and the Devout.

“The people of the Realm can pray to any gods they choose. House Targaryen will not side with one faith over another. If this High Septon wishes to build a new Great Sept, he may, but it will not be paid for with our gold and it will not be constructed on Visenya’s Hill,” Jon said, having already decided with his Queens the hill would be saved for something else once the ruins of the Great Sept of Baelor were cleared.

“And if the Faith begin to make trouble in the years to come?” Ser Jorah asked with a wary face.

“Then we will find a new High Septon,” Jon said, with one particularly in mind. Septon Maynard was a man who had come to an understanding with his father and now stood as a member of the Most Devout. The others at the Starry Sept did not know it, but he was House Targaryen’s hidden ally within the Faith. The man had overseen his parents secret wedding and could be trusted to see out their will. Before the Small Council convened, Jon had already decided with his Queens they would remove the current High Septon when the opportune time showed itself.

“If you act too soon, the people may believe it is the Lady Melisandre’s doing,” Davos Seaworth voiced his warranted concern. Jon understood why Davos said what he said and knew they would have to keep the followers of the Lord of Light at arm’s length.

“The High Septon will be given a year to prove himself,” Jon promised, knowing the septon would overreach. As Jon shifted his gaze from the Hand of the King to his squire standing at the entrance of the chamber, he shook his head to let the boy know the archmaesters could wait a little longer. “Lord Royce, how are things progressing?”

“We have rounded up the last of the gold cloaks who betrayed your father,” Yohn Royce, their new Master of Laws answered. _No doubt, with Varys’ help._ “With food now coming back into the city and the increased patrols at night, thievery is down by half. The only problem now is drunken fights amongst the men. The army is too large and most of the men have nothing to do.”

“Aye,” Jon said, knowing there was not much to be done regarding soldiers getting out of hand. “Be sure to remind the men the King’s law must be followed by all. Rape and murder will not be tolerated. We march north soon, so this should not remain a problem for long.”

“Lord Royce, how goes the new laws?” Daenerys inquired regarding the implementation of the laws of the Seven Kingdom that stood when Jon’s father ruled.

“The ravens have been sent, my Queen. If there are any new laws your Graces wish to be formed, I am at your service,” Yohn Royce replied. Jon knew they picked the right lord for Master of Laws. Yohn Royce was loyal and competent. He was a man of honor, much like Ned Stark, and would not fall to the temptation of corruption.

“The laws under my brother’s reign will have to do for now,” Daenerys replied. Jon could tell she was eager to have her own influence on the laws of the realm, hoping to better the lives of the ladies of the Realm as Good Queen Alysanne had done.

“Lord Stannis, have the lords and their armies prepared to march north three days after the coronation. We must not delay further. My cousin Bran saw the Night King and his army gathering north of Castle Black in the Haunted Forest. It will not be long before he begins his march south,” Jon ordered his Master of War, knowing very well the Night King could breach the Wall before they could arrive with their armies.

“They will be ready, my King,” Stannis promised, with a slight bow of his head.

“Good. Lord Ardrian will see to it you have the necessary coin to equip the men and acquire supplies we are short on,” Jon said, looking to their new Master of Coin. It was a difficult choice, but Jon knew they could rely on the Lord of Claw Isle. Ardrian Celtigar was a serious man who was an accomplished battle commander who also oversaw the wealth of his House more than double. He managed to increase the trade of his lands in a few short years of his lordship, competing against the rest of Blackwater Bay.

“There is enough food from the Reach and Essos. The men will make due, your Grace,” Stannis replied. Jon was inclined to agree, but part of him worried he underestimated the resources their vast army would consume during winter, in the North of all places. _Stannis is a hard man and expects the same from his men. His men are not the same. Few are._

“Lord Varys, you will have command of King’s Landing while we fight the war in the North. Ten thousand men will be left behind to hold the city and keep the peace. If trouble arises, send a raven north and one of us will fly south,” Jon ordered the Spider, confident things would not turn for the worse in King’s Landing or the rest of the South. It was only good news they received from Essos. Their lands were secure and there were no signs of uprising with most of their potential foes now dead. Westeros was much the same. The Seven Kingdoms were united in the war against the dead. Their enemies from the Iron Islands burned or drowned at the Gullet. The westermen and sellswords behind Cersei perished along the Blackwater Rush and on the walls of King’s Landing.

“Your Grace,” Lord Varys bowed his head, accepting his new responsibilities. With most of the governance of King’s Landing and the Seven Kingdoms covered before seeing the Faith, Jon nodded his head to Alyn Blackwood, telling the squire to see the men from the Citadel in.

“Seneschal Theobald, Archmaester Norren, Archmaester Ebrose, and Archmaester Marwyn,” Alyn Blackwood announced each of the old maesters as they entered the chamber. Each were old men, Marwyn being the youngest. All four wore the typical clothes seen on the archmaesters from the Citadel with each wearing distinctive, loose chains around their necks. Jon could still remember visiting the Citadel as a boy with Samwell Tarly on a royal progress through the Reach that ended at Oldtown. Sam enjoyed the Citadel far more than himself.

“Your Grace,” Seneschal Theobald bowed his head, standing at the opposite end of the table with the archmaesters standing behind him. Jon made sure not show his hand and avoided any long eye contact with Archmaester Marwyn. Marwyn was a skilled maester, admired by Jon’s father and a loyal supporter of House Targaryen within the Citadel. Jon planned to keep his close ties a secret so he could keep eyes and ears within the Citadel.

“Seneschal Theobald, Archmaesters. My father always held the Citadel in high regard and respected the important role it has to play in the Seven Kingdoms. Because of that respect, my father never meddled in the Citadel’s affairs. I have no wish to interfere with the Citadel and how it is governed. As long as the Citadel and its maesters conduct themselves with honor, you will have the support of House Targaryen,” Jon informed the old archmaesters who displayed looks of relief. He presumed they likely walked into the Small Council Chamber expecting a dragonlord dictating who would be chosen as the next Seneschal and who would be named an archmaester.

“Thank you, your Grace. King Rhaegar was a great King and a good friend to the Citadel. Archmaester Norren has written an extensive book covering the prosperous reign of your father. If there is anything we may do to serve the Realm, just ask it and we will see it done,” Seneschal Theobald eagerly replied, making sure to praise his father. The man’s flattery was perhaps too much, but Jon could not blame him. If they wished, House Targaryen could exert its will over the Citadel with ease.

“There is something you can do. Have all your archmaesters, maesters, novices, and acolytes search your library for books covering the Long Night and the White Walkers,” Jon answered, earning confused looks from each of the men except Marwyn.

“I don’t understand…,” Seneschal Theobald replied, tripping over his words.

“The Night King is real. The Army of the Dead is real. I’ve seen them. If we do not stop them, ever person south of the Wall will be a corpse before winter is over. However unlikely, there may be something in your library that can help us defeat them. They were defeated before. We must defeat them again,” Jon said, seeing skeptical looks on the old men’s faces. _Do they think me mad like my grandfather?_

“If I may have access to your ravens, I will send a message to the Citadel at once,” Archmaester Ebrose spoke up, looking less skeptical than the others. _Marwyn said he would make for a good Seneschal. A man with an open mind and high intelligence._

“Grand Maester Pylos will show you to the rookery,” Jon gestured toward the young maester from Dragonstone who had faithfully served his family after Maester Cressen had fallen ill many years ago.

“Grand Maester Pylos? Your Grace, he is far too young. The Citadel has always chosen…,” Seneschal Theobald protested until Jon raised his hand, halting the words coming out of the maester’s mouth. The Citadel was made of men and therefore had ambitions of its own, but Jon knew these men were not as bold as the lords of Westeros. They would not argue with a King in the Red Keep. However, Jon understood they could still devise plots to diminish the influence of the Iron Throne.

“The Citadel will continue on as it always has, but House Targaryen will choose its maesters in perpetuity. Grand Maester Pycelle was a spy and a traitor, serving Tywin Lannister for many years. You will never choose a Grand Maester again. Now leave us,” Jon bid the party from Oldtown farewell with Grand Maester Pylos following Ebrose out of the chambers to find the rookery.

“You expect them to find the answer to defeating the dead in those books?” Davos Seaworth asked. Jon could tell by his Hand’s tone he knew him better than that.

“No, but it cannot hurt,” he replied, knowing he was likely tasking the Citadel with a fool’s errand. _One worth taking, given the circumstances. I pray they do find answers from long ago._

Jon would be glad to receive a raven from Oldtown, informing them of how to defeat the White Walkers. His orders served a dual purpose, one to the realm and one to House Targaryen. This was his first test for the Seneschal and the archmaesters. Marwyn would let them know if the proper effort was made at the Citadel and if the maesters would accept his rule.

“If that is all my lords, I will speak with my Queens and Kingsguard alone,” Jon bid the Small Council to leave them to discuss the matter of who would form the rest of the Kingsguard. Replacing Ser Jaime Lannister, Ser Edwyn Celtigar, and Prince Lewyn Martell was long overdue. Their time in Essos left little time to consider who should replace the knights. Now that they had reclaimed the Iron Throne, the Kingsguard would need its seven knights before the coronation. “Ser Barristan, what do you think of Ser Simon Sunglass?”

“He is one of the finest swordsmen in the Seven Kingdoms, your Grace. More importantly, he is an honorable knight who will be true to his vows and give his life to protect House Targaryen,” the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard responded, confirming what he already knew. Jon wanted to be sure his opinion of the knight was not misshapen. Ser Barristan continued, “He has been with us since Volantis and has fought bravely in every battle.”

“Would you object to Ser Simon being named to the Kingsguard, Ser Barristan?” Visenya asked, failing to hide her preference for the knight from Sweetport Sound. Simon Sunglass’ swordsmanship had earned her favor and respect. When they discussed potential choices for their Kingsguard, Visenya vouched for his selection before Jon could.

“No, your Grace. He would make a fine Kingsguard,” Ser Barristan Selmy replied, with a smile on his face. Jon was glad to see it. He would not name a knight to their Kingsguard if he was disliked by the others.

“And what of Garlan Tyrell? Would he be suitable for the Kingsguard?” Daenerys asked, seated next to him. Jon could only recall vague memories of Garlan at the melee in several tourneys. From what he could remember, Garlan was a skilled fighter who proved himself worthy of knighthood despite being in the shadow of Willas, who was the heir, and Loras, who won the jousts.

“I have not seen him fight, your Grace. I can only tell you what I have heard,” Barristan replied, looking to them for permission to recall stories he had been told. “They say he led the vanguard with Lord Willas against the Lannister forces along the Blackwater Rush and held his ground, even when the Golden Company broke the Hightower line. The knights of the Reach say he was one of the first through the Lion Gate and cut down more than a dozen knights during the siege. What of it is true? I cannot say. Men like to tell tales, your Grace.”

“I remember Garlan Tyrell when he was just a boy. He is a fine swordsman and conducts himself with honor. If it is his honor or capabilities you question, rest assured he has both, your Graces,” Ser Jonothor Darry spoke without saying the unsaid worry in the room. Naming Garlan to the Kingsguard would keep House Tyrell and the Reach in the fold, but would also give the Queen of Thorns a potential spy.

“I spoke with Allyria this morning. She says he would be a wise choice. I know she is wed to Willas, but she is our sister and I trust her. She told me Garlan is more soldier than lord,” Rhaenys added. Jon was inclined to agree with her. _Allyria is smart and loyal. She is family. If I cannot trust her, I will find myself ruling alone._

“Ser Arthur? Ser Oswell?” he looked to his other Kingsguard for an opinion on the matter.

“Lord Willas is an honorable lord and wed to Lady Allyria. Highgarden can be trusted under his lordship. I would worry about betrayal from far more houses,” Ser Oswell gave his thoughts on the matter. Jon could always count on Oswell’s straightforwardness. He looked to Arthur Dayne for his view on Garlan Tyrell and saw he approved by the look in his eyes.

“Ser Garlan Tyrell of the Kingsguard it is then,” Daenerys mused, sipping a glass of Arbor gold next to him.

“That still leaves one opening,” Jon said, pondering over the two dozen names he had considered since stepping foot on the shores of Dragonstone. It was not just the fighting ability of the man he had to consider. He had to weigh a man’s loyalty, character, which House he belonged to, and even where he came from.

“Lord Massey’s third son is a great fighter. Meryn Waters and Justin Rivers are also capable swords and great leaders,” Ser Barristan suggested. Jon had considered Ser Meryn and Ser Justin, two captains of the Targaryen household guard he knighted himself. Gerold Massey was a renowned swordsman, but Jon had never seen him fight and knew little of his character. His captains were more familiar to him and he trusted them with his life.

“What about Brienne of Tarth?” Visenya suggested, causing everyone in the Small Council Chamber to turn their heads toward her. “What? Just because she is a Lady, she cannot be knighted?”

“She served on Renly’s Kingsguard. He died under her protection,” Rhaenys protested. Jon sensed her disfavor by her sharp tone and piercing eyes.

“Renly was killed by Melisandre’s dark magic. Tell me sister, which knight living can fight against that?” Visenya responded, defending Lady Brienne as if her mind was already made up. _Lady Brienne of the Kingsguard. No, Ser Brienne of the Kingsguard. Many will not like it._

“You would have me name the first lady to the Kingsguard?” Jon asked, wanting to be sure of Visenya’s conviction. “She will not just be the first woman to serve on the Kingsguard. Lady Brienne would be the first lady to be knighted.”

“Then so be it. There are places a man cannot go. Queen Alysanne understood that. Jonquil Darklyn should have been named to the Kingsguard. Lady Brienne is a great fighter and honorable,” Visenya defended the lady from Tarth.

“Honor? She fought for Renly, who would have stolen our throne in case you had forgotten,” Rhaenys argued. Jon knew Rhaenys never liked Renly Baratheon or Loras Tyrell. Those who declared for Renly earned her scorn in the years since. House Tyrell was spared her fury only because of Allyria and many months of Willas working to gain their trust.

“So did many others and now they have bent the knee. Lady Brienne protected Lady Catelyn and has protected Sansa since. Ser Jaime would be dead if it was not for her,” Visenya landed the final blow, knowing it would strike at Rhaenys’ weak spot. Jon’s eyes glanced toward Rhaenys, catching her visible recoil at the mention of Jaime Lannister.

“Do you have any objections to Lady Brienne joining the Kingsguard?” he asked Ser Barristan, knowing very well he could simply give the order and have it done without the Lord Commander’s approval.

“Lady Brienne has never been defeated and she has more honor than most of the knights in the Seven Kingdoms. If you name her to the Kingsguard, it would be our honor to serve at her side,” Ser Barristan Selmy declared without wavering.

Jon turned to look into Visenya’s eyes, wanting to confirm for himself she wanted to see this done. “You are sure about this? Many will look down on the matter.”

“Many in the Seven Kingdoms disapprove of our marriage. Remember what you told me about them?” Visenya replied, arching her eyebrow with a knowing look. _Fuck them._

Jon let out a small chuckle before looking to Daenerys and Rhaenys. Neither gave a look of protest, accepting Visenya’s choice for the Kingsguard. “Ser Brienne of Tarth, knight of the Kingsguard it is then,” he declared, earning a smirk from Arthur Dayne.

After another hour of discussing their planned coronation and the preparations being made for the journey north, Rhaenys brought up the conversation he was trying to avoid. He knew it had to happen, but he prayed she would change her mind without an argument. He was glad it was now just himself and his Queens in the Small Council Chamber. He knew where the Kingsguard stood. _They want him dead as I do._

“He broke his sacred vows. I cannot forgive that and allow him to return to our service,” he argued. _I have forgiven many. A great deal of my bannermen would say too many. You want me to forgive Ser Jaime? He had his chances._

“I am not asking for him to return to the Kingsguard. I am asking that his life be spared so he can serve as our Warden of the West,” Rhaenys said, angering him more than he expected.

“Warden of the West? You wish to reward him with Casterly Rock? He had years to join us and he didn’t,” Jon reminded her.

“And he saved King’s Landing. He killed the woman he loved. Jaime saved my life. He saved our brother’s life. He saved our mother’s and grandmother’s life, only to be called Kingslayer. And he has sacrificed his name again, for the good of the Realm,” Rhaenys defended the Kingslayer.

“The good does not wash away the bad,” he replied, infuriating Rhaenys. He could see it in her dark amethyst eyes. _She is determined to fight me on this._

“You sound like Stannis Baratheon. What are we to do with the Westerlands after the war? The Houses that would serve us are too small and held in low regard by the greater Houses. They all respect Jaime. They will follow him and he will follow us,” Rhaenys argued. _The Westerlands will do nothing. They have lost too many. Plotting and scheming is the best they can hope for. If they dare stand against us, I will remind them of our House words._

“They will bend the knee or we will bring them fire and blood,” Daenerys answered to Rhaenys’ dismay. For once, one of them was quicker to turn to the power of their dragons than Rhaenys and it caught her by surprise.

“Jon, you have seen the Night King and his army. You are my husband, my brother, and my King. I trust you and trust what you have seen. You have said we need every man we can get,” Rhaenys reminded him. _Damn her._ “Few they may be, we need the westermen in this fight with us and we need a great warrior. We must put aside our enmities and band together or we are all going to die before winter ends.”

Jon reached over to place his hand over her own on the table. The touch of her soft, warm skin reminded him of her passion and fury that laid beneath her warm smiles and beauty. Rhaenys was the blood of the dragon and her fierceness was one of the things he loved about her. He did not want anything to come between them. Gently caressing her soothing hands with his calloused ones, he told her he was on her side and did not wish to let an argument over Jaime Lannister bring a divide.

“I love you and you are my Queen. I trust each of you,” he promised Rhaenys before looking to Visenya and Daenerys. He wanted them to understand he would listen to them and not ignore their voice when it came to ruling the Realm.

“Then let Jaime live. Let him bend the knee and fight for the living. Let him fight for us. We are all he has left,” Rhaenys replied. Jon could not help but give her a confused look. “Yes, I know how absurd that sounds, but it is true. And if you do not want to give him Casterly Rock, fine. Send him to Castle Black, but let him live.”

“This is your wish?”

“It is,” she replied. _If he betrays us, his death will be far more painful than Tyrion’s._

“I will let him live and if he survives the war to come, he will return to Casterly Rock to serve us. If I get one sense of betrayal, his head will be placed on a spike,” he vowed. Jon could have chosen one of the lesser Lannisters to rule Casterly Rock, but he did not know many of them and the ones he did, he trusted less than Jaime.

“Thank you. Thank you,” Rhaenys said, standing from her chair to take her place in his lap. Jon did not get the chance to warn her of further conditions when her lips crashed against his own. Rhaenys was fire and passion. When he kissed her and made love to her, fire and passion was what he thought of her.

Finally breaking his lips from hers, he ran his hand through her complex braids before warning her, “Let him stay in the black cells for another day. I need to tell Robb of our decision. He will not like it, but he will accept it.”

“If Jaime betrays us, I will burn him myself,” Rhaenys promised as she withdrew from his lap. Jon watched her retreat toward the doorway to likely find their children.

“Rhaenys,” he called her, causing her to stop in her tracks to turnaround to face him. “The next time you wish to change my mind, you do not need to practice your speech with Lord Davos.” _We must put aside our enmities and band together or we are all going to die before winter ends._ Rhaenys showed him her ethereal smile before turning on her heels to leave them.

 

 

**Rhaenys Targaryen**

The chill of winter had passed below the Neck, through the Riverlands, and into the Crownlands. That fact had not become more apparent to Rhaenys than when she set foot in the passageways below the Red Keep, leading to the black cells. The blazing braziers did nothing to stop the brisk air that unsettled her thirst for warmth. She was the blood of Old Valyria and the Rhoynar. She was not her sister nor her brother. The blood of the First Men did not run through her veins like her siblings or her children. _I pray for a short winter._

With Ser Jonothor Darry leading the way with a torch illuminating their path ahead, Rhaenys felt the eerie silence of the black cells disturbing. The only thing she could hear was the echo of their boots hitting the stones below through the passageway and the armor of their Kingsguard reminding her of their constant presence. Leading the way were two members of their household guard who began to yell at the prisoners in the cells ahead. She could tell Ser Barristan Selmy tensed up behind her, ready to strike down any attackers should one miraculously break free from their chains.

Each cell they passed was dark and cold. _The black cells have always lived up to their name._ The first prisoners they saw were as quiet as the Silent Sisters. Rhaenys reckoned these men had been here for some time, worn and defeated by the cold and darkness. They did not release all of Cersei’s prisoners, knowing some of the men placed in chains had earned their imprisonment from the crimes they had committed. A majority of the prisoners found within the cells now were former gold cloaks. They were to be hanged before they departed while the rest consisted of lords and knights from the Westerlands. _They will determine their own fate._

The further they went, the more she heard the cries of desperate men, pleading for their lives and the lives of their family. _Do they think me the mad queen? Do they think we would slaughter innocent children?_ While most of the men who made their presence known begged forgiveness, there were the few that cursed House Targaryen. The insults hurled her way she found most amusing were those referring to her marriage to her brother. _Have they forgotten whom they called queen? Fools._

After snaking their way through the empty passages, Rhaenys remembered the only warmth to be found in the black cells were the guard posts at the end of every corridor. When they reached the final guard post, lit with a pleasant fire, Rhaenys found the end of the cells. Ser Jonothor and the two guards leading them to their prisoner had come to a halt outside the final cell.

“Will it be the sword or the dragons?” Jaime Lannister inquired, sitting against the cold stone walls with a defeated look on his face, gazing at the wall across from him. If it were anyone else, she would admit she would hold no sympathy for them and burn them for their crimes. But this was Jaime, the Kingsguard who had saved her life when she was just a little babe near the age of two. He was the knight who was always at her side, protecting her when her father was required elsewhere. He was the man who knew all her secrets and shared them with no one.

Jaime knew when she first began to sneak into Aegon’s room and said nothing about it, even when duty required he tell her father. Jaime was the man who travelled to Sunspear to protect herself and Aegon. He was the man to warn off the worst of the Dornish boys and counseled her to keep her virtue for a man she would truly love. If it were not for his words, Rhaenys guessed she would have given her maidenhead to some Dornish boy. That never came to be a regret because of Jaime. Her brothers were the only men she gave her heart and her body to, and for that she was thankful.

She prayed the man she saw now was that same man who fended off the Lannister guards sent to take her. Rhaenys prayed he was not the man who fought the Starks and Tullys, who pushed Bran Stark from a tower in Winterfell. She hoped the knight who killed her grandfather to protect her family at the peril of his own good name was still in there.

“Neither,” Jon said next to her, dressed like a northman and not a Targaryen King from King’s Landing. He did not seem bothered by the cold whereas she regretted leaving her furred travel cloak behind. When she looked back at Jaime, she saw the surprised look on his face to see her down here.

“My King. My Queen,” he said with a slight tremble in his voice.

“My King?” Jon asked, clearly annoyed that Jaime was now acknowledging their rightful rule.

“I have no excuses for my actions, your Grace. I had a choice to make, duty or love. I recall you choosing love,” Jaime answered. _He was never the best with words. Neither of them are._

“I did not push a boy from a tower. I did not forsake any sacred vows,” Jon replied in a cold, calm tone.

“No, I guess not,” Jaime mused before pausing for a brief moment. “Why are you here? Why am I still alive?” Jaime asked, before looking to her for answers with his familiar green eyes. Rhaenys had no answers. She was going to let Jon inform Jaime of his decision.

“You’re breathing because you saved Rhaenys’ life and the city of King’s Landing. Rhaenys promises me there is still honor to be found in you. Tell me she is not wrong,” Jon said, quickly glancing at her before looking to Jaime for an answer.

“Queen Rhaenys puts too much faith in me. I have dishonored my Kingsguard vows and more,” Jaime replied. She knew there was much he was leaving unsaid.

“Death marches on the Wall. The Night King is real. The White Walkers are real. The Army of the Dead is real. Everything and everyone we know will be a soldier in his army before end of winter if we do not stop him. Oaths and loyalty do not matter to the Night King. If we do not all fight together against this enemy, we will all die. I am asking you to prove you took your vows to House Targaryen seriously and serve me in the Great War,” Jon said, stepping a foot closer to make sure Jaime saw he was serious about this threat.

“You would trust me? After everything that has happened? My sister conspired with Viserys to have your father and brother murdered. My brother betrayed you to save my sister and the future of House Lannister. Why would you trust me?” Jaime asked, seemingly unconvinced Jon believed the words he spoke. _He knows about Tyrion?_

“Rhaenys trusts you. If my Queen says you are true to your word, then you are true to your word,” Jon proclaimed, staring down at Jaime stilled chained to the wall. “Guards.”

Rhaenys moved aside with Jon for the two guards to approach. She felt a sense of relief as they began to unlock Jaime’s chains. He was no longer their prisoner. He would fight for her, House Targaryen, and the living.

“I cannot have you on my Kingsguard, but I will have you as my Warden of the West and Lord of Casterly Rock,” Jon said when Jaime rose to his feet before them. She saw the moment Jaime realize what Jon was giving him and saw the shock spread across his face, barely visible in the flamelight, under the stubbled beard he now had.

Any fears or small doubts Rhaenys carried with her were dispelled when Jaime returned to the floor of his cell on bended knee, swearing fealty to House Targaryen. “You do me a great honor, your Grace, though I do not deserve it. I swear House Lannister’s fealty in perpetuity and swear to come to House Targaryen’s aid when called upon,” her former Kingsguard swore.

“Rise, Lord Jaime,” Jon ordered their new Warden of the West. She was happy to see Jaime not meet the fate of the rest of his family. She did not wish to see him dead. “What remains of the Westerlands has bent the knee, but they need to be led by one of their own. You have led them on the battlefield and earned their respect. Can I trust you to have them ready to ride north within the fortnight?”

“I’ll see it done, my King,” Jaime replied, standing before them. Jon moved to leave before Jaime continued, “One thing your Grace, may I ask you spare one of my men in these cells?”

“What is his name?” Jon asked.

“Ser Bronn.”

“Guards?” Jon asked. He was not familiar with the knight and neither was she.

“Ten cells down your Grace,” the taller guard answered.

“See that he is released,” Jon said, before looking to her, telling her he was ready to return to their children waiting for them.

“Give me a moment to speak with Lord Jaime,” Rhaenys requested. With a simple nod of his head, Jon showed his trust and faith in her. It meant everything to know her King, husband, father to her children, and brother respected her judgement. Rhaenys waited for the guards and Ser Jonothor to leave with Jon before turning back to Jaime. Before he could say anything, Rhaenys wrapped her arms around him. _When was the last time I hugged him? When I was just a girl? Before we left for Sunspear? Earlier?_

“I am glad you are alive. I did not want us fighting each other,” she mumbled against his chest with unshed tears in her eyes.

“I have done many terrible things, but I would never fight you. I would never bring harm to your children. I hope you know that,” Jaime said with a noticeable tremble in his voice. She could hear the lump in his throat. Rhaenys guessed no one had ever seen the Kingslayer the way she had. _To everyone else, he is the arrogant golden lion and oathbreaker. He is like a father to me._

“I know,” she said after pulling away to look at his face under the now lit brazier on the wall. When she realized what he had said, a sliver of guilt coursed through her knowing she could not say the same. She would have killed Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen without a second’s thought. _I love Jaime, but those children stood as a threat to my own._

“I presume you heard what happened to Tyrion?” she asked, earning a nod from Jaime. Rhaenys never liked Tyrion but felt some sorrow for Jaime for she knew how much he loved his little brother. “I am sorry, I wish it could have been avoided.”

“Do not apologize, your Grace. Never to me,” Jaime said, placing a caring hand on her arm.

“Rhaenys, you may call me by my name when we are alone,” she permitted.

“Rhaenys,” he replied as if trying out her name for the first time in years. “Jon was right. I trust him. I always have. If he says the White Walkers and the dead are real, I believe him. I will mourn Tyrion, but I do not hold it against you. Even if I did, that does not matter anymore. What matters is the living. I will fight to protect the Realm. I will fight for my King. I will fight for my Queen and her children.”

“Thank you. That means the world to me,” she replied.

“I should have stayed at your side all those years ago. I was wrong. If I could take it…,” Jaime began to apologize before she went to embrace him again, holding the closest thing she had to a father left.

“Like you said. Like Jon said. That is the past,” Rhaenys said, hoping such a past would not become her children’s lives.

 

 

**Daenerys Targaryen**

The bells rang through the city of King’s Landing, reminding the lords, ladies, knights, soldiers, sailors, shopkeepers, and all else in the city of the impending ceremony. It was today, Daenerys would be named Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and see Jon sit the Iron Throne. As she stared at her reflection in the looking glass, she began to wonder how it had come to this.

Daenerys never wanted nor expected to become the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. All she ever dreamt of was being Jon’s wife and raising a family at Summerhall. The last thing she could have foreseen was being coronated nearly at the age of twenty-two years. Tragedy and betrayal brought them here. She would give it all up to get back Rhaegar and Aegon.

As her eyes dropped to the elaborate diamond necklace on her chest, she realized wearing the crown was something she wanted. She wanted the Iron Throne for Jon, her children, herself, and their family. With her fingers tracing over the glimmering jewels, Daenerys hoped Jon would find some joy this day, however unlikely. If it were not for his sense of duty to their family and the Realm, Daenerys suspected he would be content to give up his crown.

While Vithi continued to braid her hair, Daenerys began to place the rings set before her on the sitting table onto each of her fingers. Each of them were a gift from Jon, reminding her of a special time they spent together. With every gift he gave her, he managed to make a memory that was scorched in her mind forever. Memories of Summerhall, Dragonstone, Meereen, Lys, and Pentos filled her thoughts as she carefully slid each one on.

“Vithi, I will do without the necklace,” she told her handmaiden in Dothraki.

“Are you sure Khaleesi?” Vithi responded with a puzzled face in the looking glass.

“Yes, take it off,” Daenerys responded, remembering the image she wanted to convey to the lords and ladies of Westeros. House Targaryen already held more wealth than the rest of the Houses before they conquered Essos. The wars brought by Cersei Lannister only increased the disparity between their House and the others. _Winter is here. Now is not the time to make displays of extravagance while the smallfolk will struggle to eat and the men of the Realm march north to fight a war many will likely die in._

Once Vithi removed the necklace, Daenerys saw she made the right decision. Her dress was well-made and expensive, but not as eye-catching as the ones she wore in Essos. The dark red dress did well to cover her figure with the small black cape over one shoulder, held by the silver chain linked by her House sigil. Underneath her skirt, she wore simple breeches and well-fashioned heeled boots that increased her small stature.

“You look pretty mother,” her daughter Visenya said, coming up to her side, pulling on a spiraling tendril of hair on her cheek. Daenerys quickly removed her daughter’s small hand with a practiced gentle ease, knowing if she let the little princess continue, Vithi would have to start her work over.

“Thank you, Senya, but I fear the most beautiful ladies in the court will be you and your sisters,” she replied, gently pinching her daughter’s cheek as she began to giggle. Her daughters were still young and changeable, but Daenerys could begin to see Senya was most like herself at that age. While Arya was wild and loved everything the boys liked, Senya preferred dresses and the things princesses loved. It did not mean she was averse to riding horses or adventuring through the halls with her brothers, but she was not like her namesake. Daenerys could not see Senya practicing the sword every morning like her namesake.

“Where is the crown? Grandmother said you get a crown,” Senya asked, looking at her head. Daenerys couldn’t help but smile at her confused daughter who did not truly understand what the day meant.

“It is in the Throne Room, waiting for me. If you behave yourself today, I will let you touch it when all the people are gone,” she told Senya, who did not hide her joy.

“Will Arya get a crown one day?” Senya asked, genuinely curious with no hint of jealousy from her older sister. _I hope._

“Maybe. Rhaegar will be king many, many years from now and his Queen will wear a crown. You want to know something?” she asked her daughter. When Senya shook her head, she continued, “One day, when you are old enough, you will get a tiara befitting a Princess of House Targaryen.”

“What’s that?” Senya asked, causing Daenerys to hold back a small laugh.

“Well, it is a crown for princesses. You shall have one just like all your sisters,” she told her precious princess.

“Look at the Realm’s most beautiful little Princess,” Daenerys heard her mother approaching, twisting in her seat to find her kneeling before Senya. “Run along to your sisters and let me speak with your mother.”

Daenerys turned back to look herself over in the looking glass as Vithi withdrew to allow her a word with her mother. As she inspected her braids, she found no faults in Vithi’s work. When she turned her eyes to her mother’s reflection, she found her mother smiling at her. _I hope I make her proud. I hope to be half as good a Queen as she._

“Are you dreading it?” her mother asked in a light-hearted manner.

“Perhaps once,” she mused, thinking back on when Ashara Dayne was the first person to refer to her as the Queen. “When we were in Qarth, before sailing to Astapor, it hit me. It did not at first, but when it did, it frightened me. I feared for myself, Jon, our children, our family. That feeling lasted for a brief time, but I have been ready for this. Ready for years.”

“I hear Jon has made some changes to the coronation,” her mother said.

“You think it unwise?” she asked, feeling a sliver of doubt creep into her mind now that her mother brought up what they had planned.

“I think it unwise for any lord foolishness enough to make issue of it,” her mother said calming her nerves. “My sweet daughter, you reminded me so much of myself. You were the perfect princess at court, welcoming the ladies of Westeros, softening the guard of visiting lords, and restoring our family’s good name. But that girl died in the Dothraki Sea. You are a dragon. You are far stronger than I ever was. Our family is stronger than it has ever been and it is because of you. Because of Jon, Visenya, and Rhaenys. The lords of Westeros should fear and respect you.”

Daenerys had never heard her mother speak like this. She was always the proper lady, never speaking of violence or ruling with iron will. She was Queen Rhaella of House Targaryen, loved by highborn and smallfolk alike. She was the gracious and kind Queen that endured the madness and cruelty of Daenerys’ father, Aerys. _I do not know if I would have been as strong as you if Jon were Father. I cannot imagine._

“You are strong, Mother,” she said with a tear slipping down her cheek. She never expected to cry the day of their coronation. Her mother’s words had gotten to her. It hurt to know her mother did not see herself for the strong Queen she was. _Do you not know you are the reason our family lives? Father nearly destroyed everything._ “You are the strongest person I know. I am proud to be your daughter. My children and their children’s children will know what you did for our family.”

 “Thank you,” her mother let out under a shaken breath as she rested a hand on Daenerys’ shoulder. She made sure to quickly place a comforting hand over her mother’s, happy to have her mother in her life again. They had been separated for far too long. Daenerys could always go to Lyanna, Elia, or Ashara Dayne for advice, but it was her mother she missed. She always knew what to say and how to comfort her. She could always rely on Jon to raise her spirits and make her smile, but before they confessed their love for one another, it was her mother she could always turn to. She knew it was only right she tell her mother how much she respected her and thought of her.

“It’s time,” she heard Lyanna from across the chambers, standing between Elia and their new Kingsguard, Brienne of Tarth. When she saw Brienne wearing the Kingsguard armor with the Targaryen sigil on her breastplate, Daenerys admitted to herself choosing her was one of Visenya’s great ideas. Those who clung to norms and tradition would grumble, but they were not Targaryens and did not rule the Seven Kingdoms. _Our family created the Kingsguard. We shall do with it as we see fit._

“I will see you in the Throne Room,” her mother said. Daenerys rose from her chair and turned to watch her mother gather all the princesses to join her on the journey to the coronation. Daenerys did not see Arya or Dany. _They must be with their brothers._

Crossing her chambers, Daenerys found Rhaenys standing near the doorway in her black dress of similar fashion with a red cape over her left shoulder. She had always pictured Rhaenys older and in a more revealing dress for Aegon’s coronation. Many things had changed. Their family was changed. _I have changed._

“Jon is waiting for us,” she heard Visenya from the hall, entering their chambers in a grey dress that was nearly identical to her own, with the exception of the lines of red fabric woven into the material. Visenya wore her hair in a simpler braid to her own with the same spiraling tendrils of hair around her face.

“Are you nervous?” Rhaenys asked her. Daenerys simply shook her head. _I have been ready for this. We have fought for this._ “Sister?”

“Years ago, I would have been, but now? We were born for this. I know it,” Visenya stated with steely conviction she did not hold before becoming a Queen. Visenya was always confident in her archery, swordsmanship, and riding abilities, but ruling as a Queen of the Seven Kingdoms was not something one would have expected if they knew her when she was just a princess.

“Shall we?” Daenerys gestured toward the door, impatient to wait any longer. She followed Visenya out into the hall to find Jon and their Kingsguard waiting for them with another dozen household guard at the end of the hall, near the stairs.

She saw the smile spread across their husband’s face as he laid eyes on each of them. Daenerys looked him over, examining his polished leather boots, black breeches, and the black leather gambeson that was of the northern fashion. _If it weren’t for our sigil on his gorget, the people would think him a King of Winter and not a King of House Targaryen._ Daenerys expected some ladies would frown on his wardrobe, but she loved it. He was the Jon she knew and grew to love as a child before she even knew it.

“My Queens,” he greeted each of them with a brief, but meaningful kiss on the lips. “You look beautiful. The most beautiful Queens the Seven Kingdoms have ever seen.”

“I hear the new King is quite handsome,” she replied, gazing into his grey eyes she always loved to get lost in. She managed to get a small chuckle out of him.

“Shall we?” he asked, earning a nod from herself. Following Jon’s lead, she took her place next to him, hooking her arm with his own. They had decided she would enter the Throne Room at his side since they were wed first.

Step by step, they made their way down the hallway toward the spiraling stairs that lead down Maegor’s Holdfast. Every floor they passed was guarded by their Unsullied or household guard. When they reached the ground floor, every corner and doorway was manned by a guard or servant watching on with wonderous eyes. Daenerys made sure to hold her unemotional, steely face reserved for her queenly duties as she passed the smallfolk who worked in the keep.

Occasionally, Daenerys would surrender a soft smile to the faces familiar to her. Each of them loyal to her House, Daenerys felt relieved to see most still around from the days of her brother’s rule. Some who worked in the Red Keep were slaughtered, while most fled, managing to reach Dragonstone and seek refuge under her mother’s protection. Now they were here, serving them once again. Those who served under Cersei were told to leave except for the ones Varys used as spies.

The further they made their way through Maegor’s Holdfast and through the Red Keep to the entrance hall outside the Throne Room, Daenerys noticed the numbers waiting to see them grew. While they crossed the covered walkway connecting the entrance hall to Maegor’s Holdfast, she noticed their dragons circling the Red Keep. All twelve flew in perfect harmony in the sky above, as if they knew the coronation was taking place this moment. _More likely they wish to be flown. It has been several days._

It was inside the entrance hall she found themselves free of the peering eyes, giving them a brief moment to collect themselves before entering the Throne Room. Over one thousand lords, ladies, knights, guards, and loyalists stood on the other side of the large doors standing before her, waiting to see the coronation of their new King and Queens. Daenerys took one last glance around the hall, looking at each of the Unsullied and household guard that had fought their wars from Astapor to King’s Landing. They had asked much of them and their men never failed them. _These are the men we can trust. More than the lords on the other side of those doors._

Daenerys managed to catch Jon looking down at her, waiting for her to answer his questioning gaze. When she tilted her head to look up at him, she realized he was asking if she was ready. With a simple nod of her head, she let him know it was time. Unlatching her arm from Jon’s, she heard him give the order, “Ser Barristan.”

The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard signaled the two Unsullied standing before them to open the doors so they could enter the Throne Room. When the doors began to part, the first thing she recognized was the new red windows behind the Iron Throne, replacing the Lannister gold and red they found when they retook the Red Keep. _Mother did well, planning ahead of time with the glassmakers._

Ser Barristan Selmy and Ser Jonothor Darry were the first to step into the Throne Room. Daenerys walked next to Jon behind Arthur Dayne and Oswell Whent with Visenya and Rhaenys walking close behind. Brienne of Tarth, Simon Sunglass, and Garlan Tyrell, were the Kingsguard to follow behind them. At her short stature, Daenerys struggled to see past the tall knights in their armor and white Kingsguard cloaks.

Just before she passed through the doors, she spotted the first lords and ladies waiting to set eyes upon the rulers of the Realm. To her left, she found the Iron Islanders. To her right, she managed to spot the lords of the Westerlands. The least loyal of the kingdoms were placed at the rear of the hall. It would have been an insult to their loyalists if they stood closer.

Of the Iron Islands, she recognized Lords Sunderly, Drumm, and Kenning. They looked to be the most out of place at a quick glance. Some looked to have just left their beloved longships with their unkept hair and worn clothing.

The westermen in attendance held grim and sorrowful looks alike. A few failed to hide their displeasure at the prospect of bending the knee to House Targaryen while most of their lot made the effort to seek further mercy. The lords of the Westerlands knew very well House Targaryen could crush what remained of them if they sensed the slightest hint of betrayal or disloyalty.

Lord Damon Marbrand looked to be the most angered, having spent years as one of Tywin Lannister’s most loyal bannermen. Daenerys knew they would need to keep their eyes on him and a few others. Lords Garrison Prester, Lewys Lydden, and Regenard Estren were the few Lannister bannermen that did not carry grim looks having been the first to bend the knee to House Targaryen.

On either side of the Throne Room, Daenerys saw the lords of the Reach staring at them with watchful eyes. Even if she were to glance at the lords in attendance, she would pay the Reach no mind. She liked Willas Tyrell, but thought little of the way the lords of the Reach carried themselves. They thought their lands, wealth, and larger army made them powerful. _If they were to stand alone, any of the other kingdoms could defeat them. They are the knights of summer and winter is here._

The lords she was most skeptical of were Paxter Redwyne and Leyton Hightower. The Redwynes were always vying to replace House Velaryon as the most powerful House on the seas. _Paxter is foolish if he thinks he will be our Master of Ships one day._ Her distrust of Leyton Hightower rested on the history of his House with her family and the wealth they possessed. The Hightowers were one of the wealthiest Houses in Westeros and Lord Leyton sought more influence with that wealth. With Ser Gerold Hightower dead, any close ties they held to the Hightowers were gone.

After the contingent from the Reach, Daenerys saw the lords and ladies of Dorne. They were hard to miss with their colorful garments that would be ill-suited for a northern winter. Daenerys prayed Dorne’s love for Rhaenys and Arianne’s close bond with their family would extend to Rhaegar’s reign and his children after him. Dorne had a long and bloody history with House Targaryen. Daenerys did not wish for those days to return.

She was glad to see Lord Alaric Dayne standing at the front of the Dornish audience. He had raised an army to fight for House Targaryen and helped Arianne take back Sunspear. The Lord of Starfall was flanked by the beautiful Lady Larra Blackmont and the older, but handsome Lord Quentyn Qorgyle. Daenerys knew these were the Dornish Houses they could trust the most.

Opposite the Dornishmen stood the Lords and Ladies of the Vale in between the massive marble columns. The fires raged in the braziers encircling the columns. Having the Vale on their side in the war to come would be crucial. Daenerys learned from Jon that they knew how to fight in the snow better than any in the Seven Kingdoms living south of the Neck.

While not entirely familiar with all of the lords of the Vale, Daenerys did know the sons of Lord Yohn Royce, who were flanked by Lord Gerold Grafton of Gulltown and Lady Anya Waynwood of Ironoaks. The Graftons had contributed two dozen ships to the blockade of King’s Landing and the Waynwoods sent several hundred men against the Iron Gate. She had also come to learn Sansa Stark had fostered a close relationship with both Houses, earning their support for Harrold Arryn. Some of the lords of the Vale wished to stay out of the war, but Varys informed her Sansa managed to secure the backing of the right Houses on her own.

Beyond the lords of the Vale stood the stormlords. Daenerys still did not know what to think about some of the lords. A number of them remained loyal to House Targaryen after the death of her brother, but many flocked to Renly’s side against Stannis. _Those lords are lucky they kept their heads. Forgiveness from Stannis Baratheon is a rare thing._ Of the Stormlands, she trusted Houses Selmy, Connington, and Dondarrion.

Across from the stormlords stood the riverlords. Before they had destroyed the Lannister army along the Blackwater Rush and the walls of King’s Landing, none had suffered heavier losses than the Houses of the Riverlands. Whenever war broke out in the Seven Kingdoms, rarely did the fighting stay out of the Riverlands. The war with Tywin Lannister was no different and Daenerys knew the loyalists who bled for them would need to be rewarded for many years to come. _Lords Darry, Whent, Blackwood, and Mallister will always have a place at our hearth._

After the riverlords, Daenerys saw the northmen brimming with pride. Today, they would see the first King with the Blood of the First Men to sit the Iron Throne. She heard stories of their last visit to King’s Landing and their fierce loyalty to Lyanna Stark. Now they would see her son and daughter crowned before the lords of the Seven Kingdoms.

She found the sight of Greatjon Umber standing beside Lord Howland Reed amusing. Both were great warriors of varying stature. Daenerys was glad to see the Lord of Greywater Watch at their coronation. His visits at Winterfell were always welcome and the lord always took an interest to Jon. She learned Howland Reed was a dear friend to Lyanna Stark and was at the Tower of Joy when Jon was born. House Reed rarely ventured out of the Neck, but Daenerys knew they would raise their banners for House Targaryen if called upon.

On the other side of the hall, opposite the northern lords, stood the lords of the Crownlands. Each and every lord standing there never broke their oaths to House Targaryen except Lords Rosby and Stokeworth. _They will come to find their mistakes were not forgotten nor forgiven. House Hayford had the decency to spy for us._

The great lords of Westeros stood at the front of the assembled audience with the best view of the coronation. On her left, she saw Arya Stark standing beside Robb. As she expected, Arya dressed like no lady. _She looks ready to fight a battle._ On Robb’s other side, she failed to miss the Blackfish, who was much taller than Robb. To her right, she spotted Stannis Baratheon’s son, Gendry. _He should stop looking at Arya before Robb notices. Even I can see it at a quick glance._

Just a few feet from the steps leading to the Iron Throne flanked by three elegant wooden chairs fit for queens, Daenerys saw her family standing to the left of the throne. All her children were there. Those that could stand did, while the maids held the babes at the edge of the room near the corridor that led to the Small Council Chamber. Behind them, she noticed their direwolves sitting on their hind legs, looking for any danger that should come to threaten their children.

Standing closest to the throne were her mother, Lyanna Stark, and Elia Martell, all former Queens of the Realm. _I wonder what their coronations were like? Lyanna and Elia’s ushered in a hopeful future. Ours ushers in a war against the Dead, despite already winning a great victory._

On the other side of the Iron Throne, she saw their Small Council along with Missandei, Grey Worm, the captains of the Unsullied, Kovarro, Rakharo, Qhono, and five more Dothraki warriors.

Step by step, Daenerys climbed the short stone stairs with Jon toward the Iron Throne. Stopping short of their respective seats, they turned around to face everyone there to see them crowned. All eyes in the room were on them except for the Kingsguard at the foot of the steps facing the lords and ladies of the Seven Kingdoms. There were also the Unsullied and household guard standing at the edge of the Throne Room keeping a watchful eye on any potential assassins.

Daenerys took the moment to appreciate what they had accomplished. They had fought for this moment. They planned for years and managed to conquer all of Essos. Now they had reclaimed the Seven Kingdoms with minimal losses and a united Realm.

It pleased her to see Allyria standing with Ashara Dayne and Willas Tyrell next to Lord Brynden Tully. With them also stood Princess Arianne Martell, Edric Dayne, and Yara Greyjoy. Across from them stood Harrold Arryn and Sansa Stark. Daenerys expected her to be a beautiful lady, but she found her to be far more appealing than she had expected. _Harrold should consider himself lucky to have found such a beauty with a great name._ Next to them, she spotted an out of place Jaime Lannister. She wondered if anyone in this room liked him. _Rhaenys and Brienne of Tarth may be the only friends our Warden of the West has._

Moments after Visenya stood beside her and Rhaenys took her place on Jon’s left, Daenerys heard the footsteps of Lyanna Stark approaching. Visenya was initially inclined to accept her mother’s silver crown adorned with sapphires and small direwolves cut into the band, but decided she needed a crown to represent her Targaryen heritage. Lyanna came to place a thin Valyrian steel crown upon Visenya’s head. Similar to her own, Visenya’s crown was cut with points in the shape of flames. In a tribute to her mother, Visenya had finely cut sapphires placed on the band of her crown. The design of the band was quite intricate, shaped on the surface to appear as dragonscales and wolf pelts, signifying Visenya’s Targaryen and Stark ancestry. Daenerys was amazed at the work done by the blacksmith from Qohor.

“I now proclaim Visenya of the House Targaryen, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm,” Lyanna Stark declared for all in the hall to hear. Daenerys could tell Lyanna was proud of her daughter and Jon. This was a first for the Seven Kingdoms. Not only had they declined the typical ceremony that saw the High Septon coronate the King, the Queens were given equal treatment. _What can those who oppose it say? We are dragons._

As Lyanna withdrew, Daenerys sensed Elia walk behind herself and Jon, over to Rhaenys. Daenerys admired the crown Rhaenys had been given. The Valyrian steel band was studded with rubies and shaped with flamed points. While similar to Visenya’s, Rhaenys’ crown was slightly larger and the band’s surface was made to look like dragonscales.

“I now proclaim Rhaenys of the House Targaryen, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm,” Elia Martell announced with her attractive Dornish accent.

With her coronation impending, Daenerys kept a still face while her heart beat faster with every step of her mother’s approach echoing from the stone floor beneath her. When the footsteps halted, she felt the cool Valyrian steel touch the top of her brow and weigh on her elaborate braids. The crown she had the Qhorik blacksmith forge had a band similar in size to Visenya’s while identical to Rhaenys’ with a dragonscaled pattern. Unlike the other crowns, hers was studded with amethyst stones to match her eyes underneath the flamed points. She initially wanted to wear her mother’s crown, but decided against it so her mother could still look the part of a queen at court without a foreign crown.

“I now proclaim Daenerys of the House Targaryen, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm,” her mother proclaimed. It meant the world to her to be crowned by her mother. Whenever she thought of a Queen, she thought of her mother. _Lyanna and Elia are the best of Queens, but my mother is my mother._

Once her mother was gone, she knew it was time. Despite being coronated at his side, as equals, Daenerys knew this was the most important moment for many of the lords. A great number likely disapproved of them having any real power to rule the Realm. _They will soon learn to respect their Queens and not question our capabilities are rulers._

At her side, she could see Lord Davos Seaworth holding Jon’s crown over his head to gently place it upon his King. Jon decided against commissioning a new crown and took the Valyrian steel crown that belonged to her brother, his father. It was of a simple, yet elegant design with its sharp points and square cut rubies. The crown resembled the crown of Aegon the Conqueror, currently held on Dragonstone as a gift from House Martell.

“I now proclaim Jon of the House Targaryen, first of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm,” Davos proclaimed for all the lords of the Seven Kingdoms to hear. “Long may they reign!”

“Long may they reign!” the entire Throne Room echoed before erupting into cheers and clapping. Daenerys knew the reaction from the lords of the North and Crownlands was genuine. As for the others, she knew there were those who were not so inclined to celebrate, but they did so due to the power House Targaryen wielded.

As the clapping from the lords and ladies continued, Daenerys looked across the audience, searching for the faces familiar to her. She would not bother to look for those who are displeased. _We know who they are._ Eventually, she turned her gaze from the lords and ladies below to her family on her right.

If they were alone, she likely would have cried with tears of joy. Her heart was warmed by the sight of her children looking at their mothers and father with such pride. _I hope they realize how proud I am of them. They are everything to me. They will accomplish great things for our House and the Realm._

When she turned her head to look at Jon, he nodded to her and Visenya. Following his lead, she took her seat in the wooden chair next to the Iron Throne. While not the Iron Throne, her seat was quite impressive with dragon heads carved into the arms and symbols of House Targaryen’s history carved along the edges.

Once they were seated, every man and woman in the hall bent the knee before them except for their guards and family. Jon was not the sort of King who relished displays of fealty and did not force the lords to stay on bended knee for long.

“Rise, my lords and ladies,” Jon said, causing everyone to stand. “This day is a day for celebration. Not for myself or my Queens, but for the Realm. We achieved a great victory. Justice was brought to those who murdered my father, King Rhaegar, and my brother, Prince Aegon, and many others. Tonight, we will feast and celebrate winning the war. On the morrow, I ask you follow me to fight the Great War. I have seen our enemy. Only together can we defeat the Night King and his army. Only together will your children and your children’s children see another summer. Fight with me to defend the North and the Riverlands. Fight with me to defend the Vale and Crownlands. Fight with me to protect the Stormlands and the Westerlands. Fight with me to save the Reach and Dorne and the Iron Islands.”

Jon was no poet, but he commanded respect amongst the men who knew how to fight. They knew just as well she did, he was a great warrior and did not sit by as others did his fighting. It is why the lords of the Seven Kingdoms roared with approval as his speech went on. When he named the separate parts of their kingdom, the lords roared louder and became more raucous. _We will defeat the Night King and his army. This will be the greatest army the world has ever seen led by the greatest King._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaime is lucky Rhaenys protects him, otherwise he would be dead. Likely will not have another chapter in King;s Landing in this story. Next Chapter is centered on the Journey north covering a boat ride, White Harbor, and potentially the arrival at Winterfell. Bad news is I am still working on the next chapter and the story has caught up with my writing. Next chapter will be posted next Sunday at the earliest, Sunday after that at the latest. Leave any questions or comments below.
> 
> Really hoping tonight's episode disproves some of the leaks that have come out. Extremely nervous for the final three episodes and how D&D handle the characters' arcs.


	39. The Journey North

**Jon Targaryen**

After two days of kind winds paired with a storming Narrow Sea, the waves had calmed to the relief of many on their ship. Jon was just thankful they did not lose any ships to the churning sea or the barrage of lightning bolts striking the water around them. It would be a cruel turn of fortune for anyone to die sailing north before the Great War. _My family will return to King’s Landing by the Kingsroad._

Now cut off from any news from King’s Landing or anywhere else in the Realm, Jon found the meetings with his advisors were becoming repetitive since sailing out of Blackwater Bay. Every morning, he discussed their plans for efficiently unloading men, horses, and supplies from their ships at White Harbor. Their fleet was too large to anchor at Eastwatch and the other settlements in the North. Jon knew White Harbor was the only logical choice. Monford Velaryon assured him that he and Lord Manderly, who sailed three days ahead of them, would see that they would not linger in White Harbor for long.

While he left the responsibility of unloading their ships to his Master of Ships and the Lord of White Harbor, he sought the council of Stannis Baratheon, Davos Seaworth, Jorah Mormont, and Barristan Selmy for the war against the Dead. The Dothraki and their Westerosi cavalry were riding hard up the Kingsroad, intending to meet them before marching on Winterfell. With an army numbering over five hundred thousand men, their supply lines would be far slower than the fighting men. Jon decided the army would camp at Winterfell and let the men rest before the cold march to Castle Black.

Winter was unforgiving for any man, even to one born in the North. With an army largely made up of southerners and Essosi warriors, Jon understood his men would be worn down by the time they reached the Wall if they did not stop at Winterfell. He was taking a risk, knowing the Night King and his army could attack the Wall at any moment. Every day they delayed, the further he chanced fighting the Dead south of the Wall. The choice was difficult, but he would rather face their enemy at full strength on their own lands than tired beyond the Wall. _I still must speak with Bran and Uncle Benjen. They should know more than I about the Night King and his army._

Having just left the room saved for the youngest of his children, Jon crossed the hallway toward his own quarters until he heard voices behind the door at his side. He knew then his eldest children were not truly asleep. He assumed their tiredness was a farce when he tucked them in for the night. Initially inclined to let them be and return to his Queens, he decided to turn around and see what his children were doing.

Ever so gently, Jon pushed the wooden door open to see covers and furs being tossed about before his children stilled in their bed, feigning sleep. He had expected them all to be awake by the sound of their conversation, but only found his eldest with his namesake and Princess Dany on one of the beds. As he crossed the cabin, the sound of his footsteps was enough to bait Dany. With the flickering candlelight illuminating her face, Jon caught her amethyst eyes peeking under her eyelids to see if he was still approaching. Under the light, he was reminded how much Dany looked like her mother.

“What are you doing still up? You are supposed to be sleeping,” he said as he came to sit at the edge of the bed. Jon knew they were awake the previous two nights as the storms raged, but said nothing because he remembered all the times he had done the same as a child.

Knowing she was caught, Dany pushed away the heavy furs that were up to her chin and sat up to face him. Her actions were enough to cause Arya to relent and end the mummery. Dany looked to Arya, before starting, “We were playing dragons and krakens.”

Jon looked down to see her small hands still clutching a dragon carved from wood he gifted her. He now understood they were playing out the story Visenya loved to tell their children. _One day, they will be older and understand those stories are not as warm as the version told to children._

“Are we going to fight the krakens at Winterfell?” his namesake asked, sitting at the other end of the bed, across from his twin sister.

“There are no krakens in the North, stupid!” Arya reminded her little brother.

“There is no need for that,” Jon warned his eldest daughter, before turning back to his son. “Do not worry about monsters at Winterfell. The monsters are on the other side of the Wall, far away from Winterfell. You will be safe there.”

“Can we come with you? I promise to be brave. Eddard and Egg want to come too. The White Walkers cannot scare dragons,” Rhaegar pleaded. _Where did they hear about White Walkers? I should have known they would eventually learn such things. They listen closer than I care to presume._

“I know you are brave, my sons. You must be brave princes and defend Winterfell while I am gone,” he told Rhaegar and Jon, who both dipped their heads in disappoint upon learning they would be left behind.

“I can go with you,” Arya volunteered, as he expected she would. His eldest daughter was a fierce little princess who looked like a sweet princess of Old Valyria. But inside, Jon knew Arya had what his Uncle Ned called the wolfsblood. She was like his mother and her aunt she was named after. “Dany and I can fight.”

“I do not doubt it, but you are too young. One day, when you are old like me and have children of your own, you will understand,” he attempted to reason with them when their faces turned to disappointment upon learning they would be stuck in Winterfell.

“Can we go hunting in the Wolfswood after you beat the White Walkers?” Rhaegar asked. The hope in his voice nearly crushed Jon. _I must lie to him. Who can say who will live and who will die? I am not even sure we can defeat the Night King. I must, for them._

“When I return from the Wall, we will go hunting in the Wolfswood. I’ll show you where I used to hunt with your Uncle Robb and your Mother. If you do as your mothers’ say while I am away, I will show you where Ghost, Snow, Shadow, Zokla, and Silver were born,” he told them, praying he could keep such promises. He looked forward to nothing more than showing them where he learned to hunt in the North from his uncle.

“Can we go too?” Arya asked, pleading with her big grey eyes she inherited from him. They reminded him of his mother and Arya did not realize it, but he would never be able to refuse her if she held her ground.

“Yes, you and your sisters can come too,” he replied. _I will never dissuade them from partaking in the training yard or hunting parties._

“Promise?” Dany asked.

“I promise. Now go to sleep, all of you,” he dictated as he took each of their wooden dragons and placed them on the small table near the bed. As he began to set the pieces down, he was reminded of their time in Meereen. At the time, he wished nothing more than to leave the Bay of Dragons and return to Dragonstone. Now, all he could do was think about going back to those moments. The past was the past, but he could not help but appreciate the simpler time when their enemies were slavers, bankers, and Cersei Lannister.

Before leaving his children to their sleep, he kissed each of them on the brow before telling them he loved them. It took all his strength to finally remove himself from their side as their eyes began to shut. He was pleasantly surprised to find the other princes and princesses in the room still asleep, undisturbed by their older siblings. The sight of Naerys sleeping in the middle of a bed with her limbs splayed at varying angles brought a smile to his face. _Daenerys always says she is a restless sleeper._

Forcing himself from lingering, Jon eased his way through the partially opened door to keep the sound of his movements to a minimum. As he closed the door behind him, he looked to the end of the hallway to the quarters where his Queens awaited him. _I cannot go to them now. Not like this._

Hoping to get some fresh air to clear his thoughts and avoid fouling the mood, Jon stepped around Snow, who guarded the children for the night. He let his fingers graze Daenerys’ direwolf as he passed the watchful protector toward the stairs that would lead him to the deck. As he walked through the ship, passing cabin after cabin, Jon realized he was likely the only person awake and moving on the _Sea Dragon._

As he climbed the stairs, the sound of the waves beating against the ship’s hull and the wind pushing the sails along grew louder and louder. When he reached the topside, the cold winds reminded him that he had been parted from the North for too long. _It feels like the North. We must be passing the Fingers now. I pray the maesters are wrong. The last thing the Realm needs is a long winter._

Taking in his surroundings, Jon only found three of their sailors posted above deck, sailing the ship north amongst a fleet of thousands of war galleys, longships, cogs, and the occasional carrack. Everywhere he looked, he saw lanterns hung from nearby ships, headed to White Harbor. The lanterns reminded him of the stars painting the sky above. Unlike the previous nights, the sky was clear with not a cloud in sight. The blue eye of the Ice Dragon told him they were still sailing north without a deviation in course.

Seeking some bit of solace, Jon walked toward the bow of the ship until he found his spot along the starboard side. He did not realize it until he left the children’s quarters. Rhaegar’s wish to go hunting in the Wolfswood cut right through him. He did not know what it was, but he felt it. Something whispered in his ear and tore through his heart, telling him he would not see them again after this war. _This will be my last war. The one that will determine the fate of the Seven Kingdoms and all who live in them._

Daenerys, Visenya, and Rhaenys spoke of visions they dreamt that had come true. Daenerys swore she saw them burning the khals in Vaes Dothrak before lighting the temple ablaze and bringing dragons into the world. Part of him always dismissed such notions. Ever since Hardhomme, he struggled to do so. It was not uncommon for him to awake from dreams of a battle in the snow, against the Night King and the White Walkers. He never dared mention it to his wives. Something about them kept him from regarding them as normal dreams. They felt real and always ended the same way. _I’m going mad._

With nothing but his thoughts left to him, he came to terms with how the war would unfold. The war would come fast and the victor determined in the first few battles. _The Night King will hit us with everything he has. Our numbers are too great to fight across multiple battlefields. He will strike hard and swift. Even if we push them back, he will raise our dead and have soldiers of his own behind our lines. I cannot risk the dragons. If he hits one, we are finished._ Jon did not say it, but he saw the White Walkers on their steeds. He knew if they could raise horses, they could claim a dragon. _I will not let that happen._

“You are your father’s son,” he heard his mother’s voice cutting through the sea winds. _So, I’ve heard. Always brooding, Rhaenys says._ He turned with a pained smile to his mother before returning to the sight of the ships ahead, leading their fleet around the Fingers.

As he stared at the calm sea ahead, his mother came to stand beside him. As she settled her hands along the wood next to him, she continued, “He brooded like you are doing now, before leaving the Tower of Joy and before the Greyjoy Rebellion. He would keep the weight of the Realm on his shoulders and never let me in.”

“Because he did not want you to worry,” he said as he turned to face his mother. She looked to have just come from her bed, with tired eyes and her hair unkept.

“You’re brooding more than usual. Trust me, you are worrying them,” his mother replied, knowing she was not telling a lie.

“And what am I supposed to tell them Mother? I do not know if we can win? I cannot let them think that. This war must be fought without them. This war must be fought without the dragons,” he replied, immediately regretting what he had said. He cursed himself, letting her coax the truth from him. It was a trait he hated. He always told her the truth and would always reveal his thoughts to her if she prodded enough or said the right words. Part of him wondered if she always knew about him and Daenerys. _Did she never suspect us? If she would have asked, I would have admitted everything like a fool._

“I don’t understand…,” she said, confused from his words.

“Visenya and Rhaenys are pregnant,” he admitted, his mother being the first to learn of it.

“That is good news, but it doesn’t answer why the dragons should not be used,” she followed up, giving him a quizzical look.

“It is not just men the Night King can raise for his army. I saw the horses the White Walkers ride. They are not alive. Vermithrex was lucky not to be hit at Hardhomme. I have never seen anything like it. If he was hit, he would have died and the Night King would have a dragon. I will not let that come to pass. This war must be fought by men and men alone. If the dead have a dragon, we will be defeated. Should we fail, the dragons will be the only thing left to protect our family,” he answered, struggling to look her in the eyes as the worry spread across her face.

“Why haven’t you told them? Have you told anyone?” she asked. He considered telling his Hand, but decided against it. He could not say what Davos would think and did not want to give his most trusted advisor time to convince him otherwise.

“I will when we reach Winterfell. They will stay behind with our children and the dragons. I am trusting you and Elia will keep them from doing anything foolish,” he answered, hoping she would take his side on the matter.

“Visenya will not like it. Neither will Daenerys or Rhaenys,” she countered.

“Can I count on your support when the time comes? They will fight me on this,” he requested, knowing very well his mother could be stubborn and stand against him.

“I will. I see the truth in your eyes. I always have. If this is how we win, then I am behind you,” she said, stepping closer to pull him in for a hug. He made sure to commit the feeling of his mother’s caring embrace to memory. He did not know how much time he would have left with her. _I need to cherish every moment I have left with those I love._ “What is it?” she asked, backing away to look up at his face.

“Nothing, I just wish Father and Aegon were here. They would know what to do,” he answered with a half-truth. He did wish for them to be there, but he would not reveal his other thoughts. _I do not need her worrying over my troubles._

“I miss them. I wish they were here as well. If they were, I know they would trust your decisions. You are a great King. Never doubt that for a moment, my son. You will do what is right and protect our family. We all have faith in you. Do not forget it,” she told him. _I am not sure I hold that same faith._

“I won’t,” he replied.

“I will leave you to your brooding and return to my quarters before Elia comes looking for me,” his mother said, pulling him into her embrace before leaving to find her sleep like everyone else aboard.

 

After spending an hour alone to contemplate the war to come and the future of his House, Jon found himself staring at the iron Targaryen sigil nailed to the door of his quarters. He hesitated to push through, taking a moment to cast aside his concerns and worries. _Don’t be a fool. They do not need this now._

Taking one last breath, Jon pushed the door open and quickly locked the latch behind him. When he turned around, he found his Queens lying naked as their first nameday across their bed with Daenerys in the center, writing something on a piece of parchment. The sight of their perfect skin and smooth hair bathed in candlelight stilled him. He wasn’t going to ruin the moment. He would let them say the first words and disturb the beautiful scene he admired.

“Where have you been? Brooding over King’s Landing? Or is our eldest leading the rest on an adventure through the ship?” Daenerys asked while focusing on her ink and quill. She was doing that thing he loved when she would write in bed. She would always cross her legs at her ankles and occasionally raise them in the air whenever she was contemplating whatever she wanted to put to parchment next.

“Neither. The children are asleep. I just needed the air,” he said as he began to remove his cloak. King’s Landing did not worry him. They left Varys to rule the city with several lords from across the Seven Kingdoms. Ten thousand soldiers, mostly from Dorne and the Riverlands, were left to keep the peace and protect the city. Larra Blackmont, Anya Waynwood, Arstan Selmy, Aurane Velaryon, and Jason Mallister were left to help Varys keep the peace. He chose them to rule King’s Landing because he could trust them and because they hailed from different parts of the Realm. The absence of a lord from the Reach and Westerlands was intentional.

“No? Surely, they are up to no good,” Visenya asked, glancing over her shoulder to see his response.

“They are asleep, I swear it,” he promised, failing to remove his eyes from Visenya’s hand caressing the small of Daenerys’ back. Their ethereal beauty was a welcome respite from his thoughts dwelling on the threat beyond the Wall.

“Are you going to keep staring or join us?” Rhaenys broke him from his frozen stance.

“Aye,” he replied as he removed his breeches to join them in their bed. As he slowly approached the side of the bed, Jon knelt down and placed his hands on the back of Daenerys’ thighs. Her smooth skin and lavender smell were intoxicating. The fire inside her burnt as hot as a hearth and he wanted her to keep him warm for the rest of his days.

While his hands roamed across her flesh to knead her ass, he began to leave a trail of kisses from just behind her knees up to her cheeks. He soon realized they had taken their baths without him as the smell of their familiar soaps filled his nose. As he continued to worship her perfect ass, he slid his hands from her cheeks to her thighs, gently spreading them apart. Before his tongue even reached her wet folds, he heard her throw the quill, parchment, and wood she wrote on to the floor.

Needing greater access, he pulled on Daenerys’ hips so she could be on her knees. Her soft whimper only made him more determined to drive her mad as he lapped her folds. She tasted perfect to him. She was his and he would always be hers. When he heard her let out nonsensical Valyrian words, he plunged his tongue into her cunt as his thumb traced over her rosebud.

“Jon, I need you inside me. Please, love. I….need…you…,” her High Valyrian failed her as he let his tongue flick her nub. Her whimpers turned to soft moans. She was so wet for him and he hoped it would always be that way. Nothing sounded worse to Jon than Daenerys not finding the pleasure he knew she deserved.

Just when his efforts became too much for Daenerys as his tongue began to pleasure her rosebud and she writhed in his grasp, Rhaenys pushed him back from Daenerys. He could tell by the look on her face she was tired of watching only himself and Daenerys share each other. It was never his intention to leave Rhaenys or Visenya out. Daenerys’ perfect cunt and soft moans captured his entire focus.

“That will not do, Jon. I am your sister and your Queen. Dany does not get you all to herself,” she said in her always seductive voice that seemed to bend him to her will. With her breasts firmly against his chest and her tongue plunging inside his mouth, he could barely retreat to gather his breath when Visenya pulled him in for a taste of her own. He did his best, tasting both of them as he stood at the edge of the bed with both facing him on their knees.

When Rhaenys and Visenya finally retreated, he looked down at Daenerys recovering on the bed between them. Her chest was rising and falling quickly as she gathered her breath, lying on her back. Not finished with her yet, he pulled her hips down to the edge of the bed. Daenerys’ glistening folds were too much for him to resist, pushing him to guide his cock along her cunt, teasing her as much as he could.

“Jon, I need you,” she demanded, wrapping her legs around the back of his thighs. Daenerys got her way and Jon proceeded to thrust his hips into hers. With one hand kneading her breast and the other strumming her clit, he could see her pleasure as he looked into her amethyst eyes under half-hooded eyelids.

He only had a few moments and a dozen thrusts to focus solely on Daenerys before Rhaenys threw her leg over Daenerys. Rhaenys was on her knees with her perfectly shaped ass and wet cunt begging for his attention. As he placed his hands on her ass, he carefully kneaded her cheeks before leaning forward to get his fill of her juices. Her sweet taste was everything he needed in that moment as he sent his tongue along her folds, hitting her clit.

“Jon…Senya…Don’t…,” Daenerys words failed her as he felt her cunt tighten around him. As Jon took a moment to breath while he continued to fill Daenerys to the hilt, he found Visenya’s small fingers playing with Daenerys’ nub while she laid on her back, fingering herself.

“Gods Dany…,” he growled, before forcing himself back down on Rhaenys when she shook her hips, telling him she wanted more. It was a struggle to focus on both, but he did his best to keep his rhythm with Daenerys while feasting on Rhaenys. The deeper and deeper he went into Daenerys, the harder her legs pulled him closer.

As Daenerys’ body writhed underneath his, so did Rhaenys. Their moans and High Valyrian were music to his ears as he showed them how much he loved them. The beautiful sound of his Queens nearing their peak was enough to give him the fortitude to thrust into Daenerys with the same passion while he slid his tongue from the bottom of Rhaenys’ folds to her rosebud. He had already given Daenerys the same attention, but he knew Rhaenys loved it even more.

“Jon…Brother…Fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop,” Rhaenys managed to demand between her sobs. Just as his hands began roaming Rhaenys’ ass again, Daenerys’ body and voice let him know she was cumming for him. Jon found himself overwhelmed as his cock filled her with his seed.

With every ounce of strength he had left, he continued to fill Daenerys’ cunt until he was finally spent and had nothing left to give her. Covered in sweat like his Queens, Jon withdrew from Daenerys’ warmth and Rhaenys’ sweet taste, much to her displeasure. As he caught his breath, he looked over to find Visenya lying on her back, only pleasuring herself. Her braids were undone and her silver mane was splayed across the bed. _Gods, she is so beautiful._

Needing a moment to recover, he fell onto the open space in their bed beside Visenya as she watched Rhaenys and Daenerys begin to feast on one another’s cunts. Jon knew she deserved his full attention and played with her breast before sliding his hand down over her own, circling her nub. It was nice and slow. With their fingers intertwined, they played with her cunt while she bit his bottom lip when their mouths crashed together.

“Gods, you are perfect,” he whispered after pulling back from her forceful, yet pleasant tongue. Her smile brought him all the joy in the world as it always had. Jon never believed himself to be a joyous prince like Aegon, but he did find happiness when he saw his Queens smile.

“And you are the perfect King,” she responded, throwing her leg over his body to mount him. Her soft breaths were hitting his lips as she stared into his eyes with her breasts pressed against his chest. He looked upon her face, admiring what he had until her hips began to roll and rub against his stomach in an attempt to relieve her tension. Not wanting to be parted from her any longer, he pulled her in for a savoring kiss with one hand buried in her silver mane while the other rested on her ass.

Visenya’s mouth tasted of peach and lemon as his tongue traced her lower lip and plunged against her tongue. Their kisses were slow and soft, neither feeling the need to rush things along. Jon was not favorable to seas, much like the direwolves, but he could not deny it allowed him more time with his Queens. There was plenty of time to make love to them, day and night, while they were cut off from the rest of the Realm. When his cock began to harden, he was ready to flip Visenya onto her back only to find her reaching back to stroke his length.

She continued her strokes until he saw a satisfied look on her face. He knew that smirk and could do nothing but lay back as she turned herself around to take him in her mouth while thrusting her cunt onto his face. With his lips and tongue now lavishing her wet folds, Jon struggled to concentrate on her satisfaction. Visenya expertly swirled her tongue around the head of his cock, occasionally flicking the tip. It drove him mad as his cock pulsed, ready to spill into her mouth.

Knowing he needed to last, he tried his best to ignore his own pleasure and sent his tongue plunging further into her cunt. The deeper he delved, the tighter Visenya’s thighs squeezed his head. He could sense she was just as close as he was and withdrew his tongue after having his fill of her juices. Her swollen nub was his next prey. Jon could always push her to her climax with the simple strum of his tongue against her clit. As he began this dance, he felt her begin to bob up and down on his length, hollowing her cheeks to suck him dry.

They both found themselves inadvertently thrusting into one another’s faces, nearly ready to fall over the edge together. The faster she moved up and down his length, the harder he played with her nub. He knew he was getting to her as he could feel her moans on his cock while her legs writhed around him. Finally, she found her peak, releasing his cock with a clear pop from her lips before crying out in High Valyrian, “Gods Jon…right there…yes…oh…I…”

The failing of words on her lips only encouraged him more as he did not relent with his attentions. He was going to make Visenya beg for mercy until she could not take anymore. His face was now drenched in a mixture of his own sweat with Visenya’s sweat and juices. Jon got what he wanted as she continued to cum for him, panting for breath whenever she wasn’t sobbing his name or voicing nonsensical words of pleasure.

“Jon…I can’t…I…”, she pleaded, leading him to release his hands from her ass. He could see she was thoroughly spent when she rolled off of him. _She will need to recover before I give her more._

Before he could cross the bed to join his other wives, Rhaenys pounced on the opening. She was already standing on the bed over him. With a perfect view of her beautiful cunt, Jon was frozen in his admiration for her beauty. He couldn’t say if he had been staring at her for a few seconds or a few minutes before she pulled him from the trance, tracing her foot from his chest, down his stomach, until finally brushing against his hard cock. “What am I to do with you?” she asked with a mischievous look, pursing her soft, plump lips.

“Come down here and I will show you,” he said, letting one of his hands slide up her smooth legs, caressing every inch of skin.

“You do not give any orders here, Jon Targaryen. In this bed, we are the rightful rulers,” she protested before sinking down into his lap with her legs wrapped around his waist. Jon had no plans. He acted on instinct, taking one of her large breasts in his mouth while playing with the other in his hand. As she began to dig her nails into his scalp, he sucked on her breasts more, alternating between each. He could never get enough of them and felt he could play with them all night if allowed. But they did not have all night and Rhaenys’ hips thrusting into his own reminded him he wanted to fuck her until she screamed his name. “Jon, your Queen commands it, get inside me now.”

He was not going to incur her wrath and refuse such an order. _I will never refuse such a command._ Rhaenys had already gotten to him with the roll and thrust of her hips causing his cock to slide against her soaking petals. If he was not careful, he expected he would cum too soon for her after what Visenya had done to him. _It was a miracle I did not finish in her mouth._

Removing the hand fondling her breast, Jon reached down to find his cock and guided himself toward her entrance. Just before he plunged his cock into her tight cunt, he teased her lips until Rhaenys thrust her hips again, begging for him to fill her. As much as he wished to drive her mad, he found he was only punishing himself. No longer able to be parted from her, he thrust upwards, filling her to the hilt.

With Rhaenys in his lap, he was unable to take control of the pace of their colliding hips. She was entirely in control with her arms linked around his neck and her breasts bouncing in his face. _She likes the control. She always has._

Jon was beginning to feel Rhaenys’ warm cunt tighten around him, milking his cock for his seed as she rode him with all her passion and love. Her screams were louder than Visenya’s and Daenerys’. _Seven hells, the whole ship is going to hear her._ But he did not care. Her cries for more and his name only drove him to meet her thrusts. The sound of their colliding skin filled the room as he began to bury his hand into her unbraided, dark brown hair.

Feeling himself ready to cum inside her, Jon pulled Rhaenys in for a kiss as he growled into her mouth. Her hips slowed as she began to roll her hips, trying to get his cock to hit all the places she liked instead of hitting the edge of her cunt. She was taking her time with him and he loved it. When he finally broke the seal of their lips to look upon her face, he found hooded amethyst eyes staring back at him. “I love you,” he said, feeling the compulsion to remind her.

“And I love you,” she answered before crashing into his lips again. When she bit his bottom lip, he thrust upwards, hoping to hit the back of her cunt. It pleased him to hear her yip before digging her nails into his scalp again and riding him as fast as she could.

He knew he was close and took the moment to admire the rise and fall of her breasts in front of him. He couldn’t resist taking one breast in hand, playing with her hardened nipple with his thumb while his other hand continued to run through her hair. The longer he strummed and pinched her nipple, the harder she rode him until her back arched. Just as her head fell back, her cunt clenched around his cock, causing him to coat her walls with his seed. As his body shuddered uncontrollably with hers, he could not even hear her screams, as he let out, “Fuck Rhaenys! Fuck, you are so tight for me!”

With every last rope of his seed spilling inside her, he lost control of his body. Exhausted from what she had done to him, Jon fell back, lying on the bed with Rhaenys coming down with him. She was panting for air, resting her head on his chest while he stared up at the ceiling, running his fingers through her smooth hair. After his heart pounded slower and slower in his chest, he moved to place a gentle kiss on the top of her head as she was still coming down from her peak. Jon could feel her heart racing with the beat of her heart reverberating through his chest.

“I wish we could do this until the end of our days. Order the captain to sail up and down the Narrow Sea. Leave behind the Seven Kingdoms, Essos, all of it,” Rhaenys mused, tracing her fingers across his chest before leaving a small peck on his flesh.

“Aye,” was all he could say as he stared at the ceiling above. Thoughts of the impending march north and the eventual war with the Night King crept into his mind. Worry coursed through him. The feeling grew day after day. _Damn you. You fool! Why am I bringing this into our bedchambers?_

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Rhaenys asked, sitting up to look into his eyes.

“Nothing my love, nothing,” he replied, hoping she would not question him further. He could tell she did not believe his words, but said nothing.

“You know you can always talk to us,” she said, sealing her lips with his. Her kiss was soft and tender. Rhaenys’ bruised lips were always a spark that lit a fire within him. It was much the same with Daenerys and Visenya. When she finally parted from him, she let out a soft whimper and gifted him a small smile before leaving the bed.

Sitting in his bed, covered in a sheen of sweat, his eyes followed Rhaenys’ swaying hips as she sauntered across their quarters to join Daenerys and Visenya. All three were huddled around the small table that held the water they needed to quench their thirst after sex. As he watched from afar, Jon wondered what he did to deserve the three most beautiful and intelligent women in the world. _I do not deserve it. They have good hearts and will be the greatest Queens the Realm has ever seen._ They were fearless and independent. They did not need him and that was one of the things he loved about them. _If I fail beyond the Wall, our House will live on. I know it. They will not fail._

He didn’t realize he had been staring at them like a lovesick green boy until Daenerys shot him a funny look over her shoulder after placing her cup back down on the table next to her. She was still as beautiful as the night they first made love. _No, she is more beautiful._ Every inch of her was perfect. He could not ask the gods for a better wife. The sight of loose strands of silver hair sticking to her sweat covered brow did something to him. He was hard again, just knowing her current state was a result of their lovemaking.

The trance she put him in was soon broken by Visenya approaching. The way she swayed her hips and walked across the floor between them told him all he needed to know. She needed to be fucked and he did not disagree. As she closed the distance, Jon moved to the edge of the bed, settling his feet on the cool wooden floor. Once she was within reach, he pulled his younger sister and Queen close to him.

Now standing before him as naked as her first nameday, Jon examined her incredible features as his eyes rose to meet her own after he placed both of his hands on her hips. He was in awe of the beauty she had become. He did not understand how he did not see it before, when he was just a prince. _Dany was all I needed then. She was the only one I had eyes for._ But that was the past, and now he loved three women. They were his family and his loves.

When his eyes finally left hers, they fell to her incredible breasts. They were not as large as Rhaenys’, but they were a handful and he guessed most ladies would be envious of them. She let him play with each of them. His thumbs made sure each nipple grew as hard as pebbles before he took each breast in his mouth, savoring their feel. Jon only stopped when he felt her stance shift and he realized her thighs were rubbing against each other to relieve the tension.

Releasing the breast in his mouth, he moved down her stomach, laying a trail of kisses down to the small patch of silver hair above her sex. His progress was stopped just at the apex of her nether lips and he took the chance to inhale her scent. He could smell her want for him. It was obvious to him and he loved it. He was ready to devour her cunt again with his nose buried in her hair with his tongue hitting her clit until he felt her small, gentle hands push his shoulders back.

“No, you are going to make love to me Jon,” she said, turning around to sit on his lap with her legs spread wide. When she finally settled with her back against his chest, he felt her hand wrap around his cock. He almost spilled his seed when she tapped his cock against her glistening folds, somehow able to tease herself before sinking onto his pillar.

“Fuck, Visenya…” he let out as she sunk down on his cock. He would have sworn then she was made for him, the way his cock fit perfectly in her cunt. Jon did not know if he could get any harder as she slid up and down his cock, begging for him to give her his seed.

Lost in her warmth, Jon had his eyes closed, kissing the crook of her neck while his hands were wrapped around her chest. Visenya loved for her breasts to be fondled when they made love and he would certainly never complain to do his duty. The longer he left bites along her neck and shoulder as she rode him, the more their bodies became covered in a sheen of sweat from their love.

“Gods, Dany!” he growled, having somehow forgotten about Daenerys and Rhaenys. He could feel her familiar tongue playing with his stones while Visenya continued to impale herself on him, occasionally slowing down to roll her hips before returning to her furious pace. Rhaenys had come to settle beside him, sucking on the right side of Visenya’s pulse. It didn’t take him long to figure out Rhaenys was playing with Visenya’s nub when she began sob louder, sounding like a woman who could not take anymore.

Jon did not think he would last much longer as he felt Visenya was ready to cum for him. Daenerys was merciless with her attention to his balls until Visenya lost her concentration and let his cock slip from the tight squeeze of her cunt. “Get back inside me! Get back inside me!” Visenya panted in High Valyrian in such a fierce tone, it almost scared him what would happen if her order was not followed.

Before he could react, he felt Daenerys grab hold of his cock and guide it back into Visenya’s entrance. As soon as his cock was where it belonged, Visenya continued where they were before and it felt like she had doubled the pace with which her ass collided with his hips. The sounds of their skin crashing and her voice sobbing filled their quarters again. “Seven hells, Senya…I’m going to,” he stammered as Daenerys’ tongue began to lick whatever part of his length that was not buried in Visenya. He couldn’t hold back any longer as Visenya closed in around him, nearing her own peak.

As he gave her everything he had left, Visenya’s body writhed with his arms pulling her close to his chest as she cried out for him. “Jon…my Jon…oh…,” her voice faltered on nearly every word as her head fell back onto his shoulder. He loved it whenever he could hold his Queens close as they came down from their ecstasy. _I only wish I could give them more. They deserve more._

 

Having exhausted themselves, they were quick to find their sleep under the furs on the bed. With Daenerys curled up on his right and Rhaenys and Visenya to his left, he was glad to see them resting without trouble. Jon could not say the same for himself. Each night, he found himself awake and alone with his thoughts. He tried to calculate every possible move the dead could make. For every move he could imagine, he conjured up multiple defenses to beat them back and crush them.

Like all the other nights, he only went to sleep after Daenerys would nuzzle her face deeper into his chest like a dragon seeking its lost flame. He could not explain it, but she always found a way to calm his worries and nerves without even intending to. Whenever he felt lost, she was the guide that brought him back and centered him. _Without her, I would be nothing._

 

 

**Daenerys Targaryen**

Her body still ached from their lovemaking the previous night and all the nights before, but Daenerys woke comforted and relaxed. Their fleet had departed King’s Landing nearly a fortnight ago and much of their time was spent exploring one another. Daenerys could not explain it, but she felt like a princess again, consumed by her love for Jon. She was able to ignore her queenly duties and devote all her attention to her husband and their family. _We will not get many times like this._

Just thinking about the previous days in their quarters caused her to reach for his warmth beside her. To her disappointment, all her hands found were an empty space on the bed. Jon was gone, with only the furs keeping them warm lying between herself and Visenya. His absence ruined any chance of rest. Daenerys’ eyes fluttered open to find Visenya still asleep with Rhaenys nuzzling into her sister’s silver mane and a hand cupping one breast. _A beautiful sight, men across the Seven Kingdoms men would spill blood to see._

Careful not to wake Visenya or Rhaenys, Daenerys slithered out of the heavy furs shielding her bare skin from the cool winter air on the Narrow Sea. Before she stood from the edge of the bed, her eyes scanned the room for any sign of Jon. He could have been going over a map of the North, writing letters, reviewing supply lists, or dressing himself for the day. Instead, all she found was an empty cabin with only Snow lying at the foot of their bed and Jon’s furred cloak hanging on the back of a chair at the desk near the door. _Where is he?_

Seeing it was morning by the grey skies growing brighter and brighter through the windows, Daenerys stood on her feet, finding the wood floor below her too cold for her liking. She attempted to make her way to her wardrobe with the light footsteps of a mouse, but failed to leave her loyal direwolf undisturbed. Nothing could get past Snow and surely not herself. Her direwolf’s eyes followed her path across the room, tracking her as if she were prey.

Daenerys was naked as her first nameday and could not leave their quarters without dressing herself for the day. She guessed Vithi and the younger handmaidens were likely still asleep. Paired with the fact she did not wish to waste the time preparing herself for the day, she decided the chemise lying atop the trunk holding her wardrobe would do. As she slid the chemise over her hard nipples, chilled by the air, she knew she needed to find her cloak. The chemise barely reached halfway down her thighs and was not something she wished to be seen in by anyone who was not her family.

She looked everywhere, but failed to find her winter cloak as she found the comfortable sandals for her feet. It was only when her eyes settled in the direction of the door that Jon’s cloak sat there, asking her to wear it. When she took the heavy cloak in her hands, she stole a moment to inhale his musk on the furs. He had not been in the North since flying to Hardhomme, but Daenerys always thought he smelled of the North. His furred cloak smelled of the pine trees found in the Wolfswood, the firewood that burned in the great hall of Winterfell, and the scent of the brisk northern air after a light snow. _I hope his scent never becomes foreign to me._

After cherishing his smell on his cloak, admittedly like a swooning maid, Daenerys threw the cloak over her shoulders and pushed her way through the door, into the empty hallway. Her attempt to close the door behind her failed when Snow blocked its closing, making her way outside with Daenerys. Despite the sun rising, the ship was utterly silent, bar the sound of the gusting winds and the sea crashing into the hull outside.

The babes’ nursery stood between herself and the stairs leading above deck. Inside, she found each of the babes were still asleep in their cribs. Two of their Dothraki wetnurses were already inside, sitting in their chairs, waiting to attend to any of the children if needed. And in the corner of the room, Daenerys saw Shadow keeping a watchful eye on the wetnurses and anyone else who should enter the quarters.

Quickly extricating herself before lingering too long, Daenerys climbed the stairs reaching the deck of the ship. The instant she stepped onto the deck, she was reminded of the harsh, cold winds that awaited them in the North. _It will be worse than before. All I know of the North are the summer snows and the comfort of Winterfell._

Jon was hard to miss, standing near the bow on the starboard side with Ghost to his left. All he wore were simple breeches and a gambeson over one or two layers of tunic. Snow managed to brush past her, rushing to take her place next to Ghost. She did not know if was her footsteps or Snow’s that caused Jon to turn his head in her direction. Daenerys was glad to see a warm smile on his lips as he watched her come to his side before returning his gaze to the shoreline.

The protection of his cloak was not enough to keep her warm. In an attempt to shield herself from the cold, she pulled herself closer to Jon, wrapping her arms around his torso. She was thankful for his attempt to keep her close with an arm behind her back, holding her against his side.

“Winter is here,” she mused, bringing another smile to his face. “I feel like a stranger to the North again. We haven’t even reached Winterfell and I am freezing like a southern lady.”

“You are no stranger to the North. You lived in Winterfell for two years. You have a direwolf, not many northerners can say that,” Jon replied, kissing her temple.

“I am afraid I am not you, my love. Look at you. You do not even need any furs or cloaks in this cold,” she argued, knowing there was something about the blood of the First Men that must keep him warm in the North.

“When we reach White Harbor, I will be just as cold as everyone else, I promise,” he said. She doubted him, but did not open her mouth in protest.

“What is that?” she asked after following his gaze toward the simple castle standing atop a cliff against the sea. She guessed the castle stood nearly two hundred feet above the crashing waves along the northern shore of the Bite. She tried to remember her lessons in the Red Keep and the ones from Maester Luwin in the Winterfell library, but failed to come up with a name for the keep they sailed past.

“Oldcastle,” Jon replied, pulling her in a little closer as the wind picked up. _The seat of House Locke._

“Lord Ondrew is still the lord, is he not?” she asked, remembering the old man visiting Winterfell for a feast one time. He was a kind old man from what she could recall. _And fiercely loyal to House Stark._

“He is,” Jon confirmed, saying nothing more. Daenerys presumed the Lord did not travel south with his men due to his age. _His sons were at the coronation, but was he there? I cannot say._

“If we are this close, we should be reaching White Harbor in a day or two,” Daenerys proclaimed, knowing exactly where their fleet was now.

“Aye. The winds have been kind. If they continue, we will reach White Harbor tomorrow,” Jon told her, much to her relief and displeasure. She was tired of the confines of her ship, especially with the dragons flying to the north above Oldcastle, serving as a reminder of the freedoms of dragonriding. But as much as she wanted to step foot off the _Sea Dragon_ , another part of her wanted to stay on the ship just as much. As long as they were on the ship, little came up to interrupt their love or the time they were able to spend watching their children play.

“How long will we stay there?” she asked, wondering if he had changed his mind. Lord Wyman Manderly was sure to host a grand feast for them and offer all the hospitality House Manderly was known for.

“One night, then we must ride for Winterfell,” Jon responded. She could see he was not going to let anything delay their journey north. _If we are lucky, the heavy snows have not arrived yet._

“I fear the children will not wish to leave White Harbor once they lay eyes on it,” Daenerys mused, remembering what the city looked like under a light layer of summer snow. She still thought it was one of the most beautiful places in the world. The city was pleasant and far more spacious than the other cities in Westeros. One felt like they could breathe in the city. Her fondest memory of her time there was when she and Visenya befriended a Manderly girl and several lowborn girls in the city. They enjoyed the snow for an entire day before leaving to stay at Winterfell for two years.

“I hope they like Winterfell,” he replied, not arguing with her point. Daenerys wondered how long they would be staying at the seat of House Stark. _Will this war last generations like the tales told to little children? I pray not._

“They will love it. The North is in their blood, just like their father’s,” she said, smiling before he leaned down to capture her bruised lips. Daenerys continued to plunge her tongue further and further into his mouth until she realized she was losing control of herself. As she broke away, she heard the scuffle of feet across the wood deck to her back. Throwing a quick glance over her shoulder, their two eldest were running in her direction. “Speaking of our children.”

“Is that White Harbor?” Rhaegar asked, having snuck his way between herself and the edge of the ship. Daenerys could tell by the look on his face he would be disappointed if it were. Their children understood White Harbor to be a port city covered in snow, not a lone castle atop a cliff.

“That’s Oldcastle!” Arya announced, proud of her knowledge of the northern castles.

“How did you know that little one?” Jon asked, getting down on one knee, holding their eldest princess close to him, causing her to giggle. Daenerys could see Arya was trying to brave the cold, but her current clothes would not do. _She needs her winter furs._

“I’m not little!” Arya protested with a furrow brow, causing Rhaegar to simply shake his head in front of her. Daenerys thanked the gods her son was not as wild as his sister.

“You will always be my little dragon,” Jon countered, tickling Arya until she pleaded for him to stop through her cries and giggles. “Now tell me, how did you know that is Oldcastle.”

“Grandmother showed me on the map. She says the Lockes live on a big cliff and can see the Sisters across the sea, but I do not see any sisters,” she replied, still confused with some of what she had learned from Lyanna Stark.

Jon let out a small laugh, before teaching Arya about the islands south of Oldcastle. “The Sisters are islands,” he informed Arya, who only looked more confused. “One island is named Longsister. Another is called Littlesister. The other is named Sweetsister and it has a town called Sisterton.”

“Can we go there?” Rhaegar asked. _Gods, I hope not. One of the more unpleasant places to live in Westeros._

“Maybe, one day,” Jon replied, giving her a slight smirk, knowing it to be unlikely. “Now run along back to your rooms and find your cloaks.”

Rhaegar looked to Daenerys to save him, but she gave her son a look that told him he needed to do as his father commanded. Accepting he could not fight their will, Rhaegar turned on his heels with Arya to return to their quarters below deck. Daenerys knew it would not be long before all the children were awake, requiring their watchful eye. Every person aboard the _Sea Dragon_ was a proven loyalist, but ships could be dangerous and accidents could happen. They all made sure to keep the princes and princesses on their best behavior to keep them safe and out of the way of the sailors ferrying them through the Bite.

Rhaegar and Arya’s retreat reminded her that she still needed to attend to Daeron and Rhaella. Daenerys never let her motherly duties fall to wetnurses and maids for her older children and she was not about to start with her last. She pulled Jon in for a soft kiss before marching off toward the makeshift nursery with Snow on her heels.

 

It was the day their fleet would arrive at White Harbor and Daenerys was rushing to put on the last of her garments. She did not know which handmaid commissioned her white-furred winter dress, but she was grateful to have it. The dress was thick with fur that matched Snow’s coat and kept her warm from the ice-cold chill of winter. While the dress was clearly meant to be worn in the North, it was distinctly Targaryen with subtle hints of red near the collar and her silver three-headed dragon brooch connecting the chain holding her red cape in place.

After she adorned her stockings and heeled boots, Daenerys looked to her looking glass to ensure she had not ruined Missandei’s work on her elegant braid. A smile spread across her face when she saw nothing was amiss and gathered the burgundy leather gloves off the desk in front of her before catching up with Visenya and Rhaenys as they left their quarters. Daenerys did not bother to look back, knowing everything they had was collected and placed in their trunks, ready to be carried off ship by their men when they put to port.

“I thought they would be awake by now,” Rhaenys said as they made their way to the quarters down the hallway where their children slept.

“Wore themselves thin from running around with their swords last night,” Visenya replied. Daenerys expected this to be the case, which led her to give them more freedom, knowing they would need the extra time this morning.

Silver and Zokla were standing guard outside the room, only moving aside once they approached the door to enter. Inside, she found every bed filled with each little prince and princess sleeping peacefully. Before she had fixed her hair and dressed, Daenerys went to the babes’ room and cared for them until she needed to leave. The maids and wetnurses would carry them off the ship and watch over them during their short stay at White Harbor. _But now, I must wake these little dragons. Do not cause any issues. I’m begging._

“Rhaegar. Eddard, wake up,” she spoke in a soft tone, gently shaking their little shoulders. “Rhaegar, wake up.”

“I don’t want to,” her eldest protested, pulling the wool cover below the furs up to his chin. Eddard sat up next to him, wiping the sleep from his eyes, clearly disoriented.

“It’s snowing,” she said, hoping the truth was enough to entice him without having to pick him up from the bed.

“Snowing?” Arya asked, wide awake in the bed next to them. Daenerys wondered if she had ever seen her daughter’s big, grey eyes grow any larger. It was almost as if she had delivered the best news a child could ask for by the look on Arya’s face. With a slight nod from herself, Daenerys watched Arya and Visenya bristle with excitement, rushing from their bed in their white nightgowns.

Seeing their sisters rushing across the room was the motivation Rhaegar and Eddard needed to pull themselves from their bed. Daenerys was ready to move on to the youngest, but saw her children were forgetting they were not dressed for winter, let alone snowfall. “You will get dressed and find your cloaks before leaving! Understand?” she demanded, halting them in their tracks.

Once they scurried to the small wooden trunks containing their wardrobe, Daenerys took several steps to reach the bed holding Aemon, Brandon, and Valarr. Each of them were three years of age and formed the closest of bonds. They were still very young, but Daenerys could sense they were already inseparable. Their twin sisters were perhaps the only siblings that could claim a closer connection to them. “Aemon, Valarr, Brandon, wake up sweetlings. We are nearly there,” she said, helping each muster the strength to wake and crawl out of the comfortable furs shielding them from the northern air.

Just a few feet away, she saw Rhaenys struggling to get Naerys, Sansa, and Daenys moving. Daenerys thought to help her, but then decided to selfishly help the princes dress themselves, knowing the princesses would require more work. _Better her than me._

It was her guess they were taking longer than it seemed, but she finally finished buckling the small leather belt for her son, Aemon. Looking him twice over, Daenerys decided he looked like a proper prince. As she ruffled his silver curls, she turned to catch Arya and Rhaegar attempting to sneak out of the room undetected. “Stop right there. You will wait for your brothers and sisters to get ready,” she warned them, still straightening the tiny furred cloak on Aemon.

“There you are my son,” she continued, bidding her little prince to join his siblings waiting at the door. Daenerys stood from the small feathered bed she sat on to join Rhaenys behind the children spilling out of the room after Visenya opened the door. Both gave each other knowing looks before following the children as they raced up the stairs leading to the deck of the ship.

Emerging from the dark stairs, Daenerys threw the white cloak with white-grey furs on the hood over her shoulders to protect her hair and dress from the snowfall. Soft grey clouds filled the sky and the shoreline in the distance was painted white. They were truly in the North now and she hoped the snows would stop before the journey to Winterfell. _The road from here to Winterfell will not be easy if the weather turns for the worse._

Daenerys’ worries were cast aside the moment she laid eyes on the vision in front of her. Her children were in awe of the snow. All they knew were the hot summer days in Essos, the cool breezes rolling through Lys, and the temperate climate of Dragonstone. The North stood in sharp contrast to everything they had known and they embraced it with vigor. She thought they were always happy with a sweet innocence about them, but she thought this was one of the most joyous moments of their life.

“You were right,” she heard Jon sneak up behind her, laying a hand on the small of her back, standing at her side. She took once glance at him and wanted to jump him right there. Daenerys did not think he could look more appealing than he did now. Jon stood tall with his raven hair tied back and his favorite winter cloak hanging on his shoulders. He looked like her northern warrior, standing in a snowstorm with snowflakes sticking to his hair.

“I love you,” she reminded him.

“What did I do?” he asked, giving her a puzzled look.

“I just wanted to say it. That’s all,” she said.

“And I love you, Dany,” he replied in a hushed tone, dipping his head to capture her lips as she stood on her toes. She knew it would have been more queenly to keep it brief, but her body resisted her mind and felt compelled to bite down on his lip. Jon growled as she nearly drew blood. _Get ahold of yourself Daenerys._ It took all her strength, but she finally pulled herself away and was relieved to find no peering eyes upon them.

Taking more care than her children running across the deck slowly accumulating a layer of snow, Daenerys followed Jon to join Visenya and Rhaenys at the bow. Compelled to stop the child before they hurt themselves, Daenerys opened her mouth to warn them until Jon intervened.  He managed to grab hold of Benjen and Rhaenyra, who seemed determined to chase after Ghost. The direwolf played his part well, allowing himself to be caught by the little ones. Neither were pleased by Jon’s warning, but she did not care for she was a mother and did not wish to see her children hurt. That meant all her children. Not just the ones that came from her womb, but the ones birthed by Rhaenys and Visenya.

On their approach, Daenerys found Visenya leaning down between Arya and little Dany, pointing at something ahead. It was her guess she was teaching them about White Harbor, House Manderly, and its history. Visenya had a talent for telling stories of war in a manner suitable for a child’s ears and Daenerys knew that came from Lyanna Stark. She knew this because Lyanna took the time to tell her the same stories. It was a common occurrence, considering how often Visenya would sleep in her chambers as a child.

The memories caused her to wonder where Lyanna was. _Where is she? Where is Elia and Mother?_ Daenerys’ intrigue was answered after looking toward the aft of the ship, seeing all three standing with Naerys and Sansa listening to something Elia was saying.

“See where the seals are lying? That is Seal Rock. If bad people attack the city, the Mermen attack them from the fortifications on Seal Rock,” Visenya told their daughters. Daenerys found the sight wonderous, having never seen seals before. They were not there the two times she had been to White Harbor. Rhaegar and Eddard looked less interested in what Visenya had to say, having already learned this from their father. _They are more interested in getting off this ship and exploring the city itself._

Daenerys could see their ship was sailing toward the Inner Harbor, on the left side of the white stone wall that stood on the jetty separating the two harbors of the city. Hundreds of men were already waiting for them at the docks, ready to receive the King and Queens of Westeros. Behind the city walls, she spotted the Wolf’s Den looming over everything else nearby.

“Why did they leave the Wolf Den? Its right by the sea like the Red Keep,” Dany asked, causing Daenerys to let out a small laugh. Her namesake was still too young to understand such things and she thought it cute that she believed every castle should stand by the sea.

“The Manderlys did not build the Wolf’s Den. It was here before them. They built a bigger and stronger castle. There,” Jon said, kneeling down to point up toward New Castle standing imposingly atop the hill overlooking the harbor.

“New Castle!” Arya proclaimed with pride. Her eldest daughter was always proud of her knowledge of the history and maps of the Realm. She was sure to remind everyone, lest they forget.

“Why?” Dany asked, confused as to why one castle could be safer than another.

“Why?” Jon echoed, struggling to come up with an answer for the princess. “A lord must protect his family and sometimes that means building a castle.”

“Father, what about the Red Keep?” Dany asked, fearful Jon would build a new castle in King’s Landing. Their time was short in the capital, but Daenerys learned their children were quick to fall in love with the keep and the never-ending halls of Maegor’s Holdfast.

“No, my little dragon, we are not building a new castle in King’s Landing,” he promised, pulling Dany in for a hug. To her delight and Jon’s misfortune, Dany’s silver mane was covered in snowflakes that wetted the side of his face. Visenya was quick to move in, pushing the hood of Dany’s cloak over her head.

As Jon settled the princess back on her feet, Daenerys shifted her attention to the emptied docks they passed along the jetty. The dockhands of White Harbor watched on as their ships entered the harbor. Daenerys was pleased to see Lord Manderly had prepared his men to receive them and hasten the offloading of men and supplies from the ships. What did surprise her was the number of men, women, and children standing on the white stone wall on the jetty. _Is all of White Harbor here to see us?_

With the assistance of the men ashore, their captain and sailors tied off the _Sea Dragon_ at the dock nearest the Seal Gate, nearly one hundred yards from the jetty. Daenerys followed Jon toward the plank that was being set in place for them to disembark from their ship. Part of her felt relieved to step foot on solid ground, knowing that would eventually lead to a warm hearth and later, a visit to her dragons. Snow, walking by her side, failed to hide her own eagerness to set foot on northern soil.

Marching down the plank right behind Jon, Daenerys looked over to the party waiting to receive them. Lord Wyman Manderly was hard to miss. He was an old and fat lord, who made for a pleasant host and an even greater ally. Beside him stood his wife, who looked to be a kind lady. The dozen or more people around him were his children and their children, Daenerys surmised. His sons shared their father’s face, but not his wide stature. It did not take her long to pick out two of Lord Manderly’s granddaughters. Both were young and attractive. And both were eyeing her husband. _Do not give me reason to take offence._

With only a dozen yards between them and House Manderly, Daenerys saw the northerners bend the knee as the kingsguard stood before them. Daenerys took her place at Jon’s side with Rhaenys on her other. Visenya stood on Jon’s left with a beaming smile on her face. Daenerys was glad to return to the North, despite the circumstances, but her enthusiasm was no match for Visenya’s.

“Rise, my lord,” Jon said, motioning for Wyman Manderly and the members of his House to stand. Daenerys soon realized it was just his family on bended knee. There were smallfolk, soldiers, sailors, and merchants returning to their feet at their King’s command.

“White Harbor is yours, your Grace,” Lord Manderly proclaimed.

“Thank you, my Lord. Is there any news from Winterfell or White Harbor?” Jon asked since they had been cut off from any ravens while sailing up the Narrow Sea, into the Bite.

“Only that King’s Landing is secure and Winterfell is readying for war. Bran Stark ordered all castles, holdfasts, villages, and farms north of Winterfell abandoned,” Lord Manderly answered. Daenerys felt a chill course through her body, knowing Bran had learned to see things. The ravens were not clear, but she would not question his decisions after warning them of Tyrion’s betrayal.

“And the free folk?” Jon asked, earning a nod from Lord Wyman. “Is White Harbor overwhelmed?”

“More and more arrive at our gates, but that is to be expected. Winter is here,” Wyman said, looking briefly over his shoulder. Daenerys knew he had more to say when he faced them again. “Its not just those along the White Knife. The free folk are doubling the number of people seeking refuge behind our walls.”

“Do not refuse any. I will speak with Lord Davos and see that you have enough food to feed them. If the city becomes crowded, you may send some on our ships to Dragonstone,” Jon replied. Daenerys wondered how his solution would unfold. It was anyone’s guess how the free folk would interact with the Dothraki camped at Dragonstone. Those that stayed behind were mostly old men, women, and children, but she knew the Dothraki were not the most welcoming people. From what she heard from Jon and Visenya, the free folk were not much different. _They will either make for great allies and the worst of enemies. They should do well to remember they serve the same King and Queens._

“Yes, my King. Thank you,” Wyman replied, smiling at the promise of assistance from House Targaryen. Daenerys knew the lord feared carrying the burden of feeding so many mouths. “My men will see to it the ships are unloaded as soon as possible.”

“Good, I will lead the army to Winterfell on the morrow. If Bran is sending people south, we do not have much time. Have your sons lead the men and supply wagons that will not be ready come morning,” Jon ordered. They had gone over their plans countless times and Jon was determined to move as quickly as possible without wearing their men thin. He reminded them every day, time was not on their side and the Night King could attack the Wall any day now.

“Consider it done, your Grace,” Wyman promised before turning and motioning toward the horses and a wheelhouse near the fishmarket that stood along the city walls near the Seal Gate. “Please, take my horses and wheelhouses to the New Castle my King and Queens.”

“Thank you, Lord Manderly, but we should like to walk through the streets of White Harbor,” Daenerys informed the Lord of White Harbor. She could see he carried a skeptical look on his face. _He fears for our safety because of the free folk. He does not want to be held responsible for any attempt on our lives._ “Unless that is a problem?”

“No, my Queen. No problem,” he stammered as their Unsullied made their presence known, marching by the hundreds through the Seal Gate ahead of them.

“Please, lead the way, Lord Manderly,” she replied with a smile, gesturing for him to lead their party through the city. Before falling in behind the large lord, Daenerys shot a quick knowing look toward Jon. He returned her look with a grin of his own.

As they began to make their way past the fishmarket between the harbor and the city walls, Daenerys caught the beautiful Manderly girls eyeing Jon again. Daenerys was not insecure and never worried about Jon dishonoring her. He would never do that, but there was only so much she would tolerate in her presence. When the older of the two girls looked over her shoulder again, Daenerys returned a piercing gaze, letting the girl know her stolen glances were noticed by the Queen.

Daenerys failed to hold back the smirk on her lips after successfully deterring any further eyeing of her King. With the Seal Gate just a dozen yards away with Manderly spearmen standing on the parapets, Daenerys found Robb Stark greeting Wyman Manderly with a dozen northern lords standing behind him. Even Tormund Giantsbane and a few of the free folk stood amongst them. _Perhaps some good can come from these wars. Northmen and wildlings living together?_

“Aunt Arya!” she heard her eldest cry out, rushing to her aunt’s side amongst the northern lords. She was too quick for the Kingsguard and household guard around them. Ser Oswell looked back to her and Jon, silently asking if he should bring the princess back to them. Daenerys shook her head, trusting in Arya Stark to keep her daughter safe. _If she cannot, then her pack of wolves will._

Their direwolves never gave them reason to worry, but Daenerys was initially skeptical of Arya Stark’s pack. They lived in the Riverlands for years and answered to no one. Nymeria, Lady, and their wolves were wild beasts. It took several days of travelling from the Blackwater Rush and residing in the Red Keep for Daenerys to learn she could trust the wolves to be around her children.

Following the Manderlys through the Seal Gate, Daenerys glanced over her shoulder to see Allyria and her family. She wanted to speak with Allyria since she was practically a sister to her, but decided they would converse later. Daenerys guessed Allyria still needed an eternity to spend with her true sisters, Arya and Sansa.

Once inside the walls of White Harbor, Daenerys walked beside Jon who started to speak with Lord Manderly about the march north and the potential for a retreat below the Neck. Trusting Jon with the war plans, she paid little mind to their conversation as she took in the sight of the Fishfoot Yard just inside the Seal Gate. The rather large fountain with a merman holding his trident at its center was still standing. Unlike her last visit to the city, the fountain no longer spewed water since it was covered in snow.

It wasn’t just the city itself that appeared different. The people had changed as well. Behind their Unsullied standing guard around the yard, she saw countless men, women, and children in strange clothing. Their worn, heavy furs and rather rough look told her they were the free folk. The only free folk Daenerys had encountered before now were Tormund Giantsbane and his three thousand men that marched south to fight for them. She hoped the newly formed peace between the North and the free folk would last. _They are our people now._

As they made their way through the yard, Daenerys caught two little girls bundled in heavy, dark furs whispering to one another while pointing at their party. Wanting to present herself as more than a conqueror, she waved to the girls with a warm smile. She guessed many kings and queens in history paid little mind to the smallfolk, but she was not them. _I will be a better Queen. I will make sure those without a voice are heard._ Daenerys remembered how much her brother fought to make the lives of the smallfolk better. She promised herself she would do the same and more.

Lord Manderly began to lead them down the street to their left, past the Old Mint and the Wolf’s Den. It only took Daenerys a few moments to realize the former castle was no longer serving as a prison for the Manderlys. Instead, it was now standing as a refuge for those fleeing south. There were hundreds of people standing outside the Wolf’s Den and atop its parapets. She did not worry for the safety of her children with the Unsullied lining the street ahead, but she looked back for her children nevertheless. The children had never truly walked amongst their people, always riding through cities in a wheelhouse or a pony if the eldest were lucky. Much to her dismay, the princes and princesses were hidden behind Rhaenys, Visenya, Robb Stark, and their three newest Kingsguard.

Daenerys was ready to turnaround and wait for them until she heard Drogon’s roar sounding like thunder breaking apart the sky. Many of the smallfolk standing along Wolf’s Den and the shops on the other side of the street were sent into a panic. Some screamed while others rushed from the street, having never seen a dragon before. The only people who seemed unfazed by the dragons were the few who looked up in wonder and awe. _And the free folk. They saw them beyond the Wall._

When she turned her gaze to the sky above, Drogon was passing overhead with Viserion and Rhaegal following close behind. Part of her worried how they would fare in the snow. She questioned whether the snowfall would hamper their flight and prevent them from coming anywhere near White Harbor. Instead, they flew with grace through the grey sky and easing snowfall.

The further into the city they walked, the more the people became accustomed to the twelve dragons flying in the skies over White Harbor. Winding their way through the streets, Daenerys began to notice the crowds thinning. Most of the people had gathered along the lower streets, wanting to see their family and the armies of Westeros. When they were halfway up the hill the city stood upon, Lord Wyman finally brought them back to the Castle Stair. The stepped street was a direct path from the Wolf’s Den to New Castle, but Daenerys did not feel compelled to complain. _Winter is here and we need to give the people hope. Hope against the wars to come and the unforgiving winter that was sure to punish them if the Dead did not._

With the cobbled streets behind them, Daenerys climbed the Castle Stair next to Jon while admiring the marble mermaids holding their flame as snow continued to fall. Nearing their destination, she felt Snow nudge her side with what she thought was a joyous expression. _The South and Essos are no place for a direwolf. This is where you belong._

Daenerys always knew a dragon is not a slave and neither was a direwolf. Now returned to the North, she prayed Snow and the other direwolves would stay by their side. She was not of the North, but she felt a connection to Snow that was nearly as strong as her bond with Drogon. If her direwolf were to abandon her, it would be crushing, but she would accept it.

While the climb up the Castle Stair was nothing compared to the Great Pyramid of Meereen or the Sinner’s Steps of Norvos she remembered all those years ago, Daenerys felt tired by the end of their journey. Jon made love to her long into the previous night, leaving her little sleep before she woke early to prepare the children for their arrival. Lord Manderly was known for his extravagant feasts and she prayed she would find the time to sleep before her presence was required as a Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Standing at the top of the Castle Stair, under the main gate of New Castle, Daenerys took in the view below. The seat of House Manderly provided a spectacular view of the snowcapped roofs on the city below. She thought the sight of their fleet filling the two harbors below and stretching across the horizon was just as impressive in its own way. Thousands of ships, most painted with the black sails and sigil of House Targaryen, were anchoring at White Harbor. _It will take days before they are all emptied._

“Is something wrong?” Visenya asked, coming to her side to share the view.

“No, just tired. That’s all,” she replied honestly. “You’re not?”

“I’ve been waiting to return here for some time. I am sure when we retire for the night, I will find plenty of rest,” Visenya answered with a smirk on her face. Daenerys knew Visenya preferred the North to King’s Landing. _Dragonstone and maybe Summerhall are the only places that could replace the North in her heart._ After a brief silence, Visenya continued, “I worry for our Unsullied. They never complain or tell us if they are tired. The Bay of Dragons or Qarth suits them far more than the North.”

“Grey Worm will inform us of any troubles. If not, Missandei will surely say something,” Daenerys said, giving Visenya a knowing looked.

“What do you think the people of Qarth are doing right now?” Visenya asked, running her hands through Silver’s fur next to her.

“Qarth? I suppose the markets are open and the port is busy. Certainly, it is far warmer there than here. Why?” she asked, trying to remember if she had dismissed some piece of news from the farthest edge of their kingdom.

“I was just thinking of where we started and how we got here. When I stepped off that ship, I was ready to be wed to some lord for an alliance. Thank the gods you and Jon stopped me. Otherwise, I would not have this, our family,” Visenya explained, looking back toward their children gathered around Lyanna, Elia, and her mother, Rhaella.

“I am grateful you listened and didn’t become a stubborn fool,” Daenerys said.

“Do you think we will return? To Qarth I mean?”

“One day, many years from now, perhaps,” Daenerys responded. _When will that day come?_ Daenerys wished not to return to Essos for a long time. The Seven Kingdoms needed to heal and that would require their guiding hands. A return to Essos in the coming years would likely mean they were journeying to quell a rebellion against their rule. “When we return, we must first travel to Norvos and Qohor. I am sure you will find them interesting. They are as mysterious as they are described in your books. And Vaes Dothrak. It isn’t much, but you somehow grow to appreciate it.”

“I promise, you will see them one day,” she heard Jon say, turning to find him approaching with Rhaenys at his side. “Shall we?” he motioned toward the open gate.

Nodding her head, Daenerys fell behind Jon and Rhaenys, entering the main gate of New Castle. The court yard inside was filled with a mixture of their Unsullied, household guard, Manderly soldiers, and the Manderlys that did not greet them outside the Seal Gate. As she greeted each lady of House Manderly, her eyes occasionally wandered to the merman and mermaid statues around them. The castle was far more opulent than the rest of the keeps north of the Neck. Everything was as she remembered, only covered by a layer of winter snow.

After countless curtsies from House Manderly, the pretty granddaughters of Lord Manderly led them inside the castle to the guest chambers. The furnishings and design of the castle reminded her of the castles she had visited in the Reach when she was a little girl. _They may be northerners now, but their origins still show._

“Here you are, your Graces,” Wylla Manderly, the younger of the two, introduced them to their new quarters for the night. The chambers were located on the third level of the castle on its southern side. Before they could step inside, Ser Jonothor came forth, giving Jon his nod of approval after inspecting the room. With their Kingsguard’s confirmation of safety, Daenerys followed Jon into the room. Despite her cool expression toward the Manderly girls, they still managed to eye Jon up and down as he walked past them with Rhaenys at his side. Again, she gave them another glare that finally earned a shameful dip of their faces. _Do not provoke me._

“Is everything suitable your Graces?” Wynafred Manderly asked after they had walked around their chambers for the night. Daenerys admitted to herself the guest chambers were fit for royalty, far more than any of other keep in the North.

“Yes, everything is perfect,” Visenya answered, walking toward the window with a view of the Bite. It seemed the snow had stopped falling after they had entered the castle. Seeing the Manderly girls still lingering at the doorway, Visenya continued, “You may leave us.”

Finally alone, Daenerys settled onto the bed covered by heavy furs to fight off the cold of winter. Almost as soon as she laid her head on the feathered pillows, her eyes closed with the flickering flames of the hearth across from the bed blurring in her vision.

 

 

**Rhaenys Targaryen**

The Merman’s Court was full of life. The lords and knights sang joyous songs as they told tales of the battles they had fought. It reminded Rhaenys of better times, before her father and Aegon were slain. Before they knew what stirred beyond the Wall. Everyone knew what they were marching toward, but one would not know it by the celebrations in the great hall of New Castle.

Everywhere she looked, men were drowning in their cups of northern ale and the southern wine brought north by the southern lords. Even the northerners and the few free folk in the hall were drinking and eating without worries. _Do they not realize what we face? Do they think Jon is lying?_

It was no surprise when she focused her gaze on Jon across the hall that she found him with a grim face. He did well to hide it with a feigned smile as Tormund Giantsbane had one arm around her husband’s shoulders and the other holding a large horn full of a true northern drink, as he put it. She did not know why, but Jon allowed the man to break the norms of respect shown to the King by everyone else in the Seven Kingdoms.

The noise inside the hall failed to stifle her ears from hearing Tormund’s tale of Jon fighting at Hardhomme. The wildling went on and on about Jon killing a White Walker, slaying countless wights, and Vermithrex burning thousands. _Has one battle earned him their loyalty?_ While Tormund started to vow the free folk were the best fighters in the snow as Robb joined Jon and the free folk, her husband caught her staring at him with concern written on her face. He gave her the same look he always did, letting her know he was fine and did not need her to save him from the feast. He always hated feasts, but Rhaenys knew everything was not fine and it wasn’t the feast.

Robb Stark managed to capture Jon’s attention, leading Rhaenys to shift her gaze from the other side of the hall to the dais she had abandoned earlier to sit with their Essosi advisors. Daenerys noticed they seemed left out of place, having no real connection with the lords of Westeros. Resolving the issue, they decided to join Grey Worm, Missandei, and their Dothraki bloodriders. She did not know Irri and Jhiqui as well as Daenerys did, but she was glad to have been reunited with them since the sacking of Volantis. Both former handmaidens looked happily wed. Irri had already given Rakharo a son who was just over one year in age and Jhiqui was pregnant with Kovarro’s child.

“Mother, why are they drinking so much?” Aegon asked, seated between herself and Allyria, causing both to laugh. Her son had not seen a northern feast and was unused to the rather raucous nature of the men who were present in the Merman’s Court.

“Because they are happy my son,” Rhaenys said, knowing he would not understand yet what it meant to be drunk.

“I want the ale!” Aegon proclaimed, reaching for an abandoned half-full cup left by Jon before Tormund pulled him away. Rhaenys was quick to move the cup out of reach from Aegon’s short arms, much to his disappointment by the frown on his face. “Please,” he pleaded further, thinking he would get his way.

“When you are older Egg. Now go join your grandmothers, they could use the company,” she suggested, causing her eldest to turn his head toward Rhaenys’ mothers and grandmother sitting on the dais. Lyanna and her mother were conversing with Ashara Dayne while keeping Princess Naerys and Princess Sansa on their laps. At the end of the dais, Monford Velaryon kept close to her grandmother, making her smile after telling her something she could not hear. Aegon hesitated to take her suggestion. “Go! If you are lucky, they may give you a sweet.”

“I don’t know how you do it,” Allyria said as Rhaenys kept an eye on her eldest son as he weaved through several lords to make his way to the high table. Not understanding what Allyria meant, Rhaenys turned to her best friend and sister, asking her without speaking, what she meant. “Ten children? Sometimes Arthur is too much for me. And its worse now that he can walk.”

“It isn’t easy, but they are worth it,” she replied, unintentionally letting a hand fall to her slim stomach that was sure to grow in the coming months. _They will be my last._ Rhaenys began to imagine what her children’s lives would be like in the future and she hoped they would become close with Allyria’s. It was then it finally struck her. Allyria had not sipped on any wine since the night began. She hadn’t even seen her with a cup in hand. “Are you?”

“Yes,” Allyria said, understanding what she was asking without needing more words. Rhaenys noticed her friend look around, making sure no one else could hear what they were speaking of.

“You haven’t told anyone yet?”

“Willas and my mother. You are the first to know after them,” Allyria replied in a hushed tone.

“I am happy for you. I am with child as well,” she admitted, knowing Allyria could keep this secret until she was sure the worst would not happen and she would begin to show.

“You will have a northern child, born in Winterfell,” Rhaenys stated, knowing it would please Allyria for her child to be born in the great keep where her father was lord.

“Both of us shall have northern children,” Allyria said with a laugh, both knowing what she said was not entirely true. _Being born in the North does not truly make one a northerner._

“What are you two smiling about?” she heard Daenerys ask, turning to find her taking the empty place on the bench between herself and Allyria. Rhaenys found the sight of Daenerys clutching a cup of wine odd, since it was such a rarity ever since they were reunited in Astapor.

“Good news,” Allyria replied.

“I know, you do a terrible job of hiding it,” Daenerys said. _I didn’t notice until now. How did she know?_

“Where have you been?” Rhaenys asked, having missed where Daenerys and her sister had wandered off to after abandoning their seats of honor on the dais. The Merman’s Court was a large hall and this was likely the fullest it had ever been. Rhaenys could guarantee this was the largest population White Harbor had ever boasted with their army camping inside and outside of the city’s walls.

“Speaking with a few of the lords, about what comes after,” Daenerys said. Rhaenys guessed she spent most of that time reassuring the lords of the stability they wished to return and some of the small changes they planned for the Realm. _Our more impactful changes will be saved for another time. Now is not the time for even the slightest of divisions._ “Then I joined both your sisters. They were telling Dany and Arya tales of Princess Nymeria and her ten thousand ships.”

“Did they tell it from the beginning?” Rhaenys wondered, knowing it was her Valyrian ancestors that drove the Rhoynar led by Princess Nymeria from the Rhoyne to Dorne. Rhaenys named her first daughter after the princess who saved her people, but she preferred to ignore what led to Princess Nymeria becoming a heroine to all the girls in Dorne. It was only when Princess Daenerys Targaryen and Prince Maron Martell wed that her ancestors found peace between one another. _Would I be here if they were not wed?_

“Visenya omitted the part about the dragons and Old Valyria. I am sure they have moved onto the conquest and Visenya conquering the Seven Kingdoms with Rhaenys and Aegon,” Daenerys said.

As the night progressed, Rhaenys recalled old memories with Daenerys and Allyria. They reminisced over shared stories with Aegon and her father. Some were of royal progresses through the Realm while most were of Aegon leading them into trouble in the Red Keep. The fond memories put a smile on her lips with a twist of sadness that felt like poison. Rhaenys still wrestled with her conflicting feelings. She would give anything to have her brother and first love back, but that would mean losing Jon and her children.

Visenya eventually made her presence known, retelling a tale of Aegon leading her to the wine cellars of the Red Keep to sneak away with a fine Dornish red when she was just the age of ten. Her sister said she expected to drink an entire cup, but was eventually let down when her brother spared her only a sip. Whenever Rhaenys felt her emotions start to get the better of her, one of their children would conveniently come crashing into their table, warming her broken heart.

Aegon had been stolen from them years ago and in that time, Rhaenys had come to be a mother of ten children. It brought her a new perspective and it made her question how her mother truly dealt with such a loss. Rhaenys could not bear to lose a son or daughter. _I would be broken. Losing one of them would shatter everything I know. I do not think I would have the strength to carry on like she has._

Time seemed to swiftly pass by and Rhaenys began to watch everyone around her speak, but her ears did not truly listen. The hall was filled with laughter, song, and occasional words not fit for a child’s ears. Lost in her depressed thoughts regarding Aegon, Rhaenys knew she was ready to retire when she felt Daenys asleep in her arms. It was not the norm for a Queen of the Seven Kingdoms to hold a sleeping princess in her arms at a feast full of the lords of Westeros, but she was not a Queen of old. _Some norms are meant to be broken._

“My Queen,” Grey Worm said, standing as she did. Their Dothraki mirrored his show of respect, only referring to her as a Khaleesi instead of a Queen.

“I shall retire for the night,” she announced to their table, clutching the sleeping princess in her arms. She wondered if her daughter dreamt of the future as her namesake before her. _Likely not. Who can say how true that tale is?_

Seeing his sister being carried away must have let her son, Valarr, know it was time for them to find their beds. With him came Brandon, who leaned against her side with tired little amethyst eyes. She knew he would not understand at his young age, but his affections warmed her heart. He saw her as a mother just as Visenya who brought him into the world. She loved him as a son and would do anything for him. Rhaenys prayed that would never change. _There are those who will try to set our children against one another. They will try to set them against me. We cannot let that happen. I will not let that happen._

With her sons at her side, Rhaenys withdrew from the great hall to take the children to their chambers. Sneaking one last glance upon the Merman’s Court, she spotted the rest of the children being corralled by their grandmothers, Daenerys, and Visenya. She did not mean for all of them to be tucked in for the night, but she thought it a wise decision now. The men were deep into their cups and several of the lords with loose tongues were likely to say things not acceptable for her children to hear.

Once outside the hall, Shadow and Ser Garlan Tyrell were there to escort her to the children’s quarters. Rhaenys planned to settle Brandon, Valarr, and Daenys into their beds as quickly as possible so she could see her babes. Being parted from Maelor and Elia for only three hours still felt too long for her comfort. She had become accustomed to their constant presence aboard the _Sea Dragon_ and Rhaenys realized how much she would sorely miss that time.

 

Having attended to her babes’ needs, Rhaenys was now readying the bed for Valarr, Brandon, and Aemon. Daenys was already buried under heavy furs in the bed nearest the blazing hearth. Valarr’s silver curls were now a disheveled mess as he crawled onto the bed after she made him get into his bedclothes.

“Mother…,” she heard Valarr, knowing he was ready to ask her a question. Curious to hear what he had to ask, Rhaenys knelt at the side of the bed, brushing a few loose curls from his face. “Can we stay in your bed?”

“Can we?” she heard Sansa echo in the other bed, with all three princesses wide awake, much to Daenerys’ dismay. Silently, Rhaenys asked Daenerys what she thought of it. She hadn’t let her children do this since Pentos, but she did not think any harm could come from it. With a simple nod from Daenerys, Rhaenys turned back to look down at Valarr’s hopeful eyes.

“Only for tonight. When we leave on the morrow, it is back to sleeping in your own bed,” she told her son. Suddenly, their sons were not so tired, scrambling from the bed toward the doorway. Sansa, Naerys, and Daenys were immediately at their side, brushing past Daenerys.

“Can we go?” Nymeria asked, sitting up in the bed under the window with a view of the godswood. Her eldest daughter was bundled in sheepskin next to her sisters. Each looked eager to join their younger siblings. Rhaenys shook her head, knowing they could not fit all of them on their bed. “Why?”

“You are a big Princess now,” Rhaenys said, sitting at the edge of the bed, running her hand over her daughter’s smooth dark brown hair. “Look at it this way, you have this room all to yourselves now. No younger brothers or sisters here to annoy you. And you can stay up as long as you want. Do not wake the castle and I promise, we will not make you go to bed.”

“You swear?” Nymeria asked. Rhaenys almost laughed as she saw her daughter’s cute face begin to figure out what she had been told. Rhaenys did not worry, for she knew they would not stay up for too much longer. Their day was long and she could see the signs of their fatigue.

“I swear it,” she promised before laying a kiss on Nymeria’s brow and retreating from the girls’ bed to join Daenerys in the doorway. Taking one last look inside the bedchambers, she saw the princes and princesses begin to huddle around Rhaegar and Arya. They were still young, but she noticed the children seemed to always cling to their elder siblings. Rhaegar was quiet and dutiful while Arya was loud and wild, but somehow, they seemed to get along just fine. Both effortlessly earned their younger siblings’ admiration and love. _They will lead our House after we are gone._

While Shadow stayed behind with the eldest children, Rhaenys followed Daenerys toward their guest chambers. Inside, they found the children already sitting on their bed looking for a spot to sleep. She was prepared to explain her decision to Jon, but saw he had expected this somehow. Naerys and Daenys’ cheerful voices seemed to be what he needed to lift his spirit. Their daughters had a way of making him forget the stress that came with ruling and protecting the Realm.

Listening to Sansa retell some story about a wolf and a dragon Lyanna Stark had told her, Rhaenys wandered over to her wardrobe. As she began to discard her dress and adorn her red nightgown that was more suitable to the cold than the typical chemise she wore, Rhaenys found herself laughing at Sansa’s story while looking at her reflection in the looking glass. She pondered undoing her braids until deciding it would be best if she took her place in the bed before she was left without one.

“Valarr, make room for your mother,” she insisted as she climbed into the bed next to Jon with Daenerys moving in behind her. It took a few moments, but they finally settled themselves under the warm furs. Valarr clung to her side for warmth while Daenys fought Naerys to be by Jon’s side.

Not long after the children found their preferred places in the bed, Rhaenys tilted her head up, searching for signs of any them still awake. Each of them were sleeping like babes, finally worn thin from a long day in a place they had never been before. She planned to take them to the godswood in the morning so they could enjoy the snow before the long march to Winterfell. Winter would make the journey far more unpleasant than the time she visited the North and the wheelhouse holding the children would only do so much.

“You didn’t seem pleased tonight,” she finally whispered to Jon.

“You know I hate feasts,” he replied, turning his head to face her.

“I know, but it wasn’t the feast. Were the lords driving you mad? Or was it Tormund Giantsbane? He is too familiar,” Rhaenys replied, concerned for her husband.

“Do not mind Tormund. He means well,” Jon replied, pausing to consider his next words. “The free folk are different. They have their own ways.”

“They are part of the Seven Kingdoms now. They need to learn how to act around a King,” she argued, thinking on how the other lords would see it. Rhaenys did not personally care for such norms, but she knew many lords were set in their own ways. Some may even use their acceptance of the free folk into the Realm to sow division across the Seven Kingdoms.

“Aye. Perhaps you are right,” Jon said. She knew that voice. He just wanted to avoid an argument over this and she was inclined to agree. Rhaenys decided not to push it any further.

 

Rhaenys sat upon a marble bench in the corner of the New Castle godswood with the white stone walls to her back. She could keep an eye on the children as they played in the snow with the direwolves. Daenerys shared the bench with her, frequently commenting on how the children were well-suited to the North. Both of their fears were put to rest as the children embraced the cold air and the wet snow.

While the godswood was beautiful and serene, it was not truly comparable to Winterfell’s. New Castle lacked a weirwood tree and the hot springs that warmed the pools inside the Winterfell godswood. Rhaenys tried to imagine living in the North her entire life and thought that hard to imagine. She craved warmth and there was none to be found here if she was not held in her husband’s arms or near a hearth.

“I thought we would be riding out of the city by now,” she admitted, watching Arya Stark help Senya and Nymeria build a snowman while the boys, Princess Arya, and Princess Nymeria chased their direwolves through the trees.

Rhaenys had decided to focus on the children when she woke earlier in the morning with two small bodies draped over her. Her sister volunteered to attend the Small Council meeting in the Merman’s Court with another three dozen lords. Rhaenys wanted to make her presence as a Queen known to the lords, but decided her children were more important. _They aren’t discussing anything we have not gone over a hundred times on the ship._

“Missandei said there were problems with offloading the ships,” Daenerys responded. Missandei had joined them not more than an hour earlier, but Rhaenys did not get the chance to speak with their trusted advisor. She was preoccupied with Daenys and Naerys seeking her attention.

“Mayhaps we should find ourselves a new Master of Ships,” she jested, earning a small laugh from Daenerys.

“I don’t think my mother would allow it,” Daenerys said, reminding Rhaenys of her grandmother’s relationship with the Lord of Driftmark. Rhaenys did not know what to think at first, whether Lord Monford was truly in love with her grandmother or seeking more power for House Velaryon. As best she could tell, he truly did love her. After their first sennight on Dragonstone, she decided it was not her business who her grandmother spent time with and decided to trust her judgement.

“No, she wouldn’t,” she replied, only turning away from Daenerys at the sound of small boots crunching the snow. Senya and Nymeria were running across the snow in their direction. She thought both princesses were the most beautiful girls in the world. Nymeria kept her hair in a simple northern braid while wearing a crimson winter dress that evoked the symbolism of their House. Besides the furs woven into the dress to keep her daughter warm, hints of dragonscale and the three-headed dragon brooch pinned to her chest told anyone with eyes she was a Targaryen. And Senya stood as a mirror image to Daenerys, wearing a white winter dress that almost matched her typical Valyrian hair that almost let her blend into the wintry landscape.

“Mother! Mother! Look at the snowman!” Senya proudly yelled, pointing toward the three balls of snow standing on top of one another. Rhaenys wasn’t familiar with how children amused themselves with snow. Daenerys and her sister had only spoken of throwing snowballs across the Winterfell training yard and godswood during a summer snow.

“I see and what a perfect snowman he is,” Daenerys responded, leaning down to speak with her daughter at eye level. Rhaenys thought the twigs and small pebbles used to depict the limbs, nose, and eyes amusing. _I have not seen one before, but Arya Stark appears to have taught them well._

“Aye, the best I have ever seen,” she heard, lifting her gaze from the girls to her husband, standing there in his black winter cloak, fastened over his gorget and boiled leather armor.

“Father!” Senya and Nymeria cried, scrambling to reach him first. Both girls crashed into his legs, overeager to seek his affection. As always, she could see Jon’s walls crumble against their daughters’ love. _Gods, they already know they can get anything they want if they ask it of him. It will only get worse with age._

“It is time,” her husband stated, picking up Nymeria in his arms, settling the little princess against his hip. Senya looked saddened to lose out to her sister until her uncle Robb snuck silently behind her, quickly snatching her up off the ground. Senya’s arms flailed as she tried to wriggle herself free from his grasp, giggling as she fought him until finally accepting defeat.

“Is my little niece ready to see Winterfell?” Robb asked, readjusting Senya in his grasp until she was facing him, gripping the furs of his cloak along his shoulder with her little hands. The interaction between the two brought Rhaenys joy. Until King’s Landing, the only family her children knew were Targaryens and House Dayne. Now they were acquainted with their northern kin and embraced them with their true hearts. It also saddened her, for she knew all that remained of her Dornish kin was Arianne.

“Can we fly there?” Senya asked, seeming overly eager to reach their destination. Robb chuckled before looking to them for answers.

“No, my sweet daughter. You are too little to be riding any dragons,” Daenerys said, running her hands over her daughter’s intricate braids while still in Robb’s arms.

With some effort and stern commands, Rhaenys managed to wrangle the rest of their children with Daenerys’ help. None of them wanted to leave. They were having more fun than she expected, chasing the direwolves through the trees and bushes within the castle walls. It was only when Jon called for Ghost to come to his side that the direwolf complied, forcing the children to follow.

Before departing New Castle, each of them bid farewell to the ladies and children of House Manderly. Rhaenys made sure to thank them for their warm hospitality and compliment the beauty of their keep. While many times her words during a royal progress were half-hearted or even false, she spoke truthfully to the Manderlys. It was only when she rode through the gate onto the cobbled street that Daenerys let it slip, Wylis Manderly’s daughters had been eyeing Jon the entire time until Daenerys made them stop. _I am surprised I did not see it. Admittedly, I am usually the overprotective one._

Just as they entered the city the day before, the streets of White Harbor were lined with smallfolk watching their progression through the winding city streets coated in a thin layer of snow. Unlike their entry into the city, they stuck to the streets and avoided the Castle Stair. While Rhaenys did agree with Davos Seaworth that men were more or less the same anywhere in the world, she felt the cries of their names rang a little truer here than they did in King’s Landing. The fickle nature of the people living in the capitol and their dark history with her family was not something she could forgive nor forget.

Admiration and praise from the smallfolk were things she sought, but would never demand or expect. Her father had taught her it took more than a strong ruler who instilled fear to establish a strong Realm. He instilled in herself and Egg that whoever sat the Iron Throne should strive to improve the lives of their subjects and earn their love. Rhaenys also learned that love could disappear just as swiftly as one could gain it, but it was worth the effort. Fear would earn them no allies to assist them in the most difficult of times, something her House had unfortunately learned after her father and brother’s deaths.

Even if Rhaenys only saw the people’s admiration as a device to solidify their rule, she had to admit to herself it did please her to hear a few people yell for Nymeria and Daenys. She was surprised the smallfolk in the North had come to learn the names of the princes and princesses born after Rhaegar and Arya. Rhaenys feared her daughters would receive little if no recognition from the northerners. Visenya and Daenerys had spent two years in the North, earning the goodwill of its people. The North did not truly know her, but it did not stop the smallfolk from shouting her children’s names.

With the babes and youngest of their family crammed into the protection of the wheelhouses holding her mother, grandmother, and Lyanna, the eldest were permitted ponies. Directly behind her, Daenys shared a pony with Nymeria and Valarr with Aegon, considering how little they were. Rhaenys was amazed at their riding abilities at such a young age. With Lyanna Stark’s insistence and the guidance of their Dothraki, the children improved fortnight by fortnight.

It was half an hour before their party came to a halt at the northwestern gate of White Harbor. Rhaenys could not see far with the road ahead filled with men on horseback and Unsullied standing as still as the merman statues lining the street. Before she could urge her stallion forward to ride with Jon to the front of their army, the sound of children at play caught her ear. Seated in her saddle, she twisted to find a dozen or more children throwing snowballs at one another in a small grove standing behind the frozen fountain within the city gate.

The only friends her children really had were one another. Their circumstances in Essos required certain precautions, which included overprotective measures that insulated their children. They would sometimes play with Dothraki children in Pentos, Braavos, and on Dragonstone, but it was not a common occurrence. She could see the pained faces on her two boys.

“What is it, Ser Garlan?” Daenerys asked, drawing her attention to the Kingsguard riding forth.

“Some smallfolk travelling south have the road ahead blocked. A broken wagon or two. It should not be long my Queen,” Ser Garlan Tyrell informed them.

Turning back to her children, Rhaenys made her decision. “Go, join them,” she told them, gesturing toward the ensuing snowball fight near the grove. Aegon and Nymeria hesitated with the reins to their ponies in hand. Rhaenys continued, “Go, before I change my mind.”

She did not need to tell them a third time as they leapt off their ponies, running through the snow to join the children at play. Five of their Unsullied followed Shadow and Silver, who trekked through the snow to keep a watchful guard over their children.

Whatever concern she had for how they would mix with children they did not know was thrown to the wind. Rhaegar and Arya had already asserted their leadership over their new acquaintances. She did not know if the northern children showed deference to them because they understood who they were or because they were a similar age and Rhaegar and Arya were natural leaders. It was only a brief pause before the battle in the snow commenced and the children scrambled behind trees and two-foot walls built from snow.

Rhaenys guessed her children were still too young, judging by their throws and the snowballs they formed, but they were filled with joy. She was not going to interrupt that until they needed to leave the city. Lost in the scene across the yard, it took several minutes for her to realize Daenerys and Visenya sat atop their mares on either side. Both held prideful looks on their faces as Rhaegar and Eddard looked to come away from their little battle as the victors.

“They will never want to leave,” Daenerys said, as Rhaenys tracked Nymeria dodging every snowball that flew her way. Her little princess who shied from swordplay and Arya’s games was nimbler on her feet than she thought. Their happiness was infectious and made Rhaenys forget for a brief moment that there was still a war to be fought. It was only her children and Jon that could make her forget such terrible things.

“We may not have a choice depending on how heavy the snows become,” her sister declared. Rhaenys did not mind the snow, but she certainly did not wish to find herself stuck in the North due to the snowfall described in the books her sister read. “The maesters have said this will be a long winter.”

“I pray they are wrong,” Daenerys said. _They have been known to be wrong about many things._

All three of them watched a little longer until the children wore themselves out and Jon rode through the gate. She could tell by his face the road had been cleared and they were finally leaving White Harbor. With Garlan Tyrell’s help, Visenya and Jon returned the children to their ponies. By the looks on their faces, she figured they would find themselves in a wheelhouse before midday.

Two short horn blasts in the distance signaled they were now on the march to Winterfell and the war beyond the Wall. It took some time, but the men ahead eventually began to move and Rhaenys nudged her stallion forward. Their Kingsguard were the first the ride through the city gate with Jon and Visenya close behind.

It was nearly a mile outside the walls of White Harbor that Rhaenys rode past the northerners seeking refuge within the port city at the mouth of the White Knife. Even the strongest amongst the smallfolk looked worn and defeated. Rhaenys knew then, that this road would not be easy. These people lived in the North their entire lives and they looked defeated. The only thing that brought her any semblance of comfort was the fact that they had an army and were far better provisioned than the smallfolk at the side of the road. Jon knew all of this before crossing the Narrow Sea and had planned well.

Every meeting they held that included planning for their eventual northern campaign centered on building the necessary provisions and supply lines required to sustain an army filled with southerners and men from Essos. Jon’s reasoning was always sound and she thought his estimates for the supply numbers were correct. Despite her confidence in him, which she shared with Daenerys and Visenya, Jon urged precaution and demanded double his estimates.

Westeros was prepared as it ever could be for the fight against the Night King. Their chances of victory now relied on the bravery of men and the capabilities of Jon and the lords who would lead them in the war to come. _Even if our armies fail to break the Dead, our dragons will._

Five miles up the White Knife, Rhaenys finally caught sight of the old stone bridge that would carry them over the strong current of the river below to the western banks. From there, they would take the westward road that led to the Kingsroad. If everything went to plan, their khalasar would meet them at the crossroad and ride with them to Winterfell. It wasn’t just the Dothraki who were riding up the Kingsroad. Almost all of the Westerosi soldiers who had their own horse rode with them. _Qhono will stop any infighting. The lords should remember to do the same._

Crossing the bridge, Rhaenys looked to the sky when she heard the familiar sound of her violet-scaled dragon’s roar. From the southwest, she could see Moonlight and Kios flying toward the White Knife. From there, the dragons stuck to the river, following its path through the small hills until they passed overhead.

“How do you think they will fare this far north?” she asked Daenerys. To her disappointment, Daenerys did not have an answer, returning a blank expression. “Jon?”

“I would worry about us. The dragons can warm themselves with a strong fire whenever they wish. We will not have such luxuries,” he replied.

Rhaenys was concerned about the journey north. She also knew there was no point in stressing herself over struggles that may never come to pass. As her stallion crossed the bridge, she did all she could, throwing the hood of her furred cloak over her head and clung to its warmth. She would push through and endure like the hundreds of thousands of men marching north without the same comforts she would have as their Queen. She trusted in Jon more than anyone in the world and believed in him. _He will see us through this war and winter after._

 

 

**Visenya Targaryen**

Visenya knew they were close. The two feet of snow on the ground failed to hide the hills and small woodlands surrounding Winterfell. She was familiar to them all and remembered all the times she raced Jon or Daenerys on horseback across these lands. When her eyes rested on the climbing road ahead filled with five thousand Unsullied marching at the head of their army, a horn blast sounded. A few moments later, another horn blast echoed through the air. Then came the third. _We are here._

Her second oldest son, Brandon, was starting to squirm in front of her, impatient to see the strong walls and great keep of Winterfell she had told him about. She let him ride with his brother Jon when they left White Harbor, but she made him ride in the wheelhouses every day after in the twenty-two days since. Almost the entirety of the previous night was spent enduring his badgering to ride through Winter Town and into Winterfell.

The eldest of their children were permitted to ride their ponies for the final leg of the journey and she finally relented to Brandon’s demands. His sisters Daenys and Sansa voiced similar demands, earning their place in Daenerys and Rhaenys’ arms. Winterfell was something like a home to her and Visenya did not mind abandoning royal norms on a visit to the seat of House Stark. _The North is not preferable to southern norms anyway._

As half their Unsullied crested the hill, she caught Jon looking back at them with a look, as if he was asking if she was ready. Visenya had waited years to return to Westeros. She dreamt of returning to the cool shores of Dragonstone, relaxing on a balcony in Maegor’s Holdfast, and swimming in the lake at Summerhall. Behind those dreams, the wish to return to Winterfell was ever present. Some of her fondest memories were built within and without its strong stone walls. It was where she bonded with her mother’s family and fell in love with her brother, even if he did not know it.

She left Winterfell a Princess of House Targaryen, feeling alone and abandoned after Jon’s exile to Essos. Now, she was returning as a Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, wed to her brother and love of her life. Instead of forcing herself to conceal her true feelings and hide who she truly was, Visenya could be who she was born to be. She always thought herself closer to her mother, despite her Valyrian features. Her entire childhood, she felt closer to a Stark. In truth, she was a dragon. She was the blood of Old Valyria.

It was when she began to fall for Jon that she came to terms with who she truly was. She loved him more than sister loves her brother. And when Jon finally returned that love she felt for him, her timidity and self-doubt were gone. Visenya never thought of herself that way until she took the time to truly listen to her sister. Marriage and motherhood had changed her. Rhaenys made that point clear one night when they had the chance to speak alone in Meereen. _We have all changed in the years since we were last here._

“Where is it?” Brandon asked, trying his best to peer around his father and Daenerys, riding ahead of them. Even if Winterfell was in sight, her son was too small to look over the Kingsguard riding ahead of them. Visenya could see her cousins, Robb and Arya, riding ahead of Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur. Rhaenys rode a Dornish stallion, a gift from Arianne Martell, beside her. Behind them rode the eldest of their children. Her mother and Elia were even riding on horseback into Winterfell while Visenya’s grandmother stuck to the wheelhouse with the babes.

“Just beyond this hill, my brave little prince. You will see it soon,” she promised, beginning to conjure an image of what her cousin Bran looked like. He had lived beyond the Wall for years with little protection. _How did he survive? Why did the Reeds go with him? And how did he find Uncle Benjen? The ravens never said._

As they reached the peak of the hill, the Kingsroad presented a wonderous view of the snow-capped roofs of Winter Town below. Winterfell stood imposingly behind the small town that served as a place of safety for northerners when winter came. In desperate times, the smallfolk across the North could count on the protection and food stores maintained by House Stark.

Smoke billowed from every chimney she could identify. In summer, it was not the same. The houses of Winter Town were always occupied, but they were not filled with families like they were now. At a quick glance, Visenya guessed the town’s population had grown from nearly one thousand people to ten thousand. Tents could be seen standing in the open ground surrounding the town. Instantly, she recognized many of them belonged to the free folk. They were the same tents she saw in the Haunted Forest after the Battle of Castle Black.

“They know they are home,” her sister observed as Silver and Shadow tread past them through the snow along the Kingsroad. Visenya knew Rhaenys was correct. The direwolves never pouted or seemingly complained about anything, but something in their eyes told her this was where they belonged. The North was in them and they did not look out of place. Essos did not suit them and she was glad the direwolves would not have to return.

“I’m afraid I cannot say the same for the dragons,” she responded. She had not seen them for two days and wondered where they flew. They would never abandon them, but Visenya sensed they did not approve of the bitter cold. _Silverclaw felt at ease when we flew over Torrhen’s Square and parts of the Wolfswood. Do we need to be in their presence more?_

“I do not remember this many people when I visited Winterfell,” Rhaenys pointed out her previous observation.

“Every winter, it is like this. The farmers who lack food or sufficient shelter seek refuge in Winter Town. Others go further south if they can,” Visenya replied, knowing White Harbor, Barrowton, and Torrhen’s Square were favorable destinations the northmen would take their families to.

“How long is winter?” Brandon asked, readjusting the cloak on his shoulders. A gust of frigid wind seemed to disturb his comfort. If she could take her hands off the reins, Visenya would wrap her arms around her little prince and protect him from the cruel northern chill.

“I do not know Brandon. Winters can last years. If we are fortunate, this will be a short one and we can look forward to spring,” she said, knowing they would likely face a deadly winter. All the winters in her life had been short. Visenya knew the Realm would not be so fortunate forever.

“Why?” Brandon asked, tilting his head to show his inquisitive face.

“Why? I am not sure sweetling. That is something the maesters have yet to solve,” she replied, guessing her son wondered why the seasons could vary in length.

“Like Maester Pylos?” Daenys asked, shielded under Rhaenys’ cloak.

“Yes, like Maester Pylos,” Rhaenys confirmed with a hint of laughter in her voice. The new Grand Maester was the only maester her children had ever known, having lived in Essos their entire lives. Visenya knew they would need to ask for more maesters in the years ahead. _We shall ask Marwyn for the best so the Citadel does not send their little spies._

The army slowly descended down the hill and the Kingsroad eventually brought them through the center of the free folk camp sitting outside Winter Town. Everywhere she looked, there were men of fighting age, children, women, the old, the strong, and the weak. She was glad to see their new people were here and not living in the Gift or one of the once abandoned castles on the Wall. If the worst were to happen, these people would surely perish without the protection of the armies of the Realm.

The last time she looked upon the faces of the free folk, she was met with skepticism, fear, hatred, shame, a mixture of them all, and more. This time, she saw hope, acceptance, relief, and warmth on their faces. _Is there hope they can live with the North, in peace? If we are to survive the Dead and what comes after, we must put aside our differences._

Visenya guessed winter south of the Wall was far easier to endure for the free folk and food was likely the only thing they were concerned about. Robb likely had enough food to keep them alive, but she would ask him anyways once inside Winterfell. If needed, they would supply them with enough food until spring arrives.

The further they made it through the camp set on either side of the Kingsroad, the larger the crowds around them became. It wasn’t until they reached the first of the buildings built from log and stone that Visenya felt like they had truly reached Winterfell. The inn stood to their left. She knew they served a proper northern ale, as her brother put it. The Winter Town brothel stood across the road, to their right. Visenya was glad to see no whores standing outside the stone buildings, showing what they had to sell to an approaching army. _I presume they had the sense not to offend us. After tonight, every whore will have enough gold to last them ten years._

As soon as they were past the inn, she began to hear the people yell for Jon and Daenerys. Visenya could not claim to know every name of the people who called Winter Town home, but she knew every face and they knew her. They remembered Jon and Daenerys treating them with respect during their time in the North. Moments after she heard people call for Jon and Daenerys, she heard someone call out, “Queen Visenya!”

Her eyes searched for the source. Visenya looked to either side of the road, looking at each home and building they passed. She feared she missed who called for her until her eyes settled on the town’s bakery, owned by an old woman named Bella. Visenya smiled and waved to the friendly lady who always tried to refuse her coin, saying it was an honor to have a Princess of House Targaryen and the daughter of Queen Lyanna Stark favor her breads. Ignoring the woman’s protests, Visenya always made sure to force her will and give Bella more coin than she asked. She knew Bella relied on the goodwill of House Stark and the lords of the North who came to visit. The woman lived a modest life, with a room on the second floor above her bakery.

“Who is she?” Brandon asked, seeing her acknowledge the stranger who called her name in the crowd.

“A nice woman who makes the best breads and pies in the North. If you are good, we will visit her on the morrow,” she told her son, knowing whether he behaved or not would not determine her decision. Seconds after she made the promise to her son, she heard more smallfolk call her name. With every cry of her name, she saw faces familiar to her. She spotted the family of Mikken, the blacksmith who forged Needle for Arya. Visenya saw the town pig farmer and the Winterfell stonemason along the way.

At the center of Winter Town, she saw more and more children climbing the trees standing along the road. The boys were desperate to see a king leading the greatest army the world had ever seen and the girls likely wished to see what the queens were wearing. When Visenya would peer through the openings between the homes, she could see a pack of children running parallel to the road, keeping up with their party. She was amused by the sight of the children running between the houses and through the small groves interspersed throughout the town.

Nearing the northern edge of Winter Town, the joyous sound of the town’s cheers was broken by the roars of their dragons. Visenya immediately twisted her head over her left shoulder to find Vermithrex, Silverclaw, Drogon, and Myrax diving through the grey sky toward their position until leveling out two hundred feet overhead. With them came the other eight dragons, spreading across the skies over Winterfell. Visenya watched each dragon take one pass over the castle before turning around to circle the castle as they did when they arrived on Dragonstone.

The smallfolk showed their initial fear, screaming and scrambling for cover, until they realized they were in no danger. _As long as we are alive, no harm will come to them. Our dragons are smart. They know friend from foe. Silverclaw, Vyraxes, and Darkskye know how disappointed and angered I would be if they laid waste to an innocent town._

With Winter Town now behind them, Visenya felt anxious to reach the South Gate and ride into the main yard of Winterfell. She mustered enough control not to ride around their men and up the hill to the open gate awaiting their arrival. She could see Stark banners fluttering above the ramparts of the walls ahead. Judging by the number of men she could count on guard atop the walls, Visenya knew those that did not march south were here, ready to fight the war beyond the Wall.

When they finally passed through the South Gate, Visenya glanced back to see her firstborns’ reactions. Both looked happy to have reached the end of their journey and explore the castle their grandmother was raised in. _I have certainly told them enough tales and legends of Winterfell. I am sure my mother has told them tenfold._

Once inside the protective walls of Winterfell, they wove their way through the castle until reaching the main yard. There, Visenya brought her mare to a halt when she saw the members of House Stark waiting for them. Robb was already off his destrier hugging Bran before moving onto their Uncle Benjen. The sight of the uncle she thought she had lost sent her into a rush to reach him.

Ignoring the assistance offered by a Winterfell stableboy, Visenya dismounted with the grace of a Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea. With her feet on the ground, she lifted Brandon out of the saddle and placed him on the ground next to her. From there, she rushed over to her waiting uncle while Jon embraced their cousin Bran.

“Uncle Benjen!” she said with delight, crashing into his open arms. It felt good to know she still had one uncle left. Losing her father, Aegon, and Uncle Ned was too much. She was tired of losing those she loved.

“They tell me my niece is a Queen, your Grace,” he said in jest, holding back a chuckle as he looked down to her. She was so happy to see him, she nearly missed how tired he looked. _How much fighting has he seen? What did he have to do to say alive beyond the Wall this long?_

“How?” was all she could get out.

“A long story. Now is not the time,” he said. She disagreed, but nodded her head, accepting his decision to tell his tale later, when he was ready.

Sensing Jon wanted to speak with their uncle, Visenya backed away and turned to approach Bran. She wrapped her cousin in a firm hug, glad to find him breathing. Like her uncle, she feared him dead. Instead, he returned to Winterfell a changed person. “You are taller than me now,” she said, looking him up and down. _He is as tall as Jon now._

“It is good to see you cousin,” Bran replied in a flat tone that seemed more fit for strangers. She could tell then, he was not the same boy she remembered. The Bran she knew was obsessed with becoming a knight. _He wanted to ride in tourneys and join the Kingsguard. I do not see any of that in his eyes now._ It was not age that changed him. Visenya could tell something else happened to him. _Is it because of his visions? Are they why he is changed?_

“You do not know how happy I am to see you alive and well,” she said, hoping her smile would rub off on him. Her hopes were crushed. Bran showed no emotion on his face. When he said nothing in return, she decided to leave him be and turned to embrace Rickon.

Her youngest cousin had grown more than anyone. He wasn’t as tall as Bran, but he was just a small boy when she last saw him. She made sure to ask him how good he was with the sword and spear. Visenya hoped he was just being modest when he admitted he was only a decent swordsman. Her brothers were excellent swordsman by his age.

“Rickon?” she heard Allyria hesitantly ask behind her. Visenya was quick to move out of the way as Allyria cautiously approached the brother she never knew was her brother until it was too late. The tears in Allyria’s eyes nearly brought herself to tears as Visenya watched Allyria embrace her younger brother. She couldn’t be happier for Allyria to finally be connected to the family she deserved to have.

After speaking with Rickon for a decent amount of time, Allyria shifted her attention to Bran. Visenya felt sad to see her cousin offer the same, cool response he gave her. She knew there were no ill intentions, but part of her wanted him to at least fake a warmer embrace.

Visenya heard the soft cries of a baby and turned her head to find Margaery holding Robb’s son in her arms. She knew this was his second son, Brynden. She wanted to focus on the adorable babe, but found herself focused on the glare Catelyn Stark held for Allyria. _Gods, she can be a cunt! I always tried to deny it, but Mother was right._

Visenya would not be pleased to find out Jon had fathered a bastard with another woman, but she would not hold it against the child and the circumstances around Allyria’s birth were hardly normal. Her uncle loved Ashara Dayne and she loved him. Her mother and father’s actions prevented Ashara from warning her Uncle Ned of the babe growing in her belly. _Catelyn was still betrothed to my Uncle Brandon._

The feeling of her children clinging to her side reminded her of their presence. Visenya wanted to introduce them to their northern kin until Bran stepped forward to interrupt Jon and Daenerys’ conversation with Robb and Margaery. “There is no time for this. Castle Black has fallen and the Dead are through the Wall,” Bran informed them, to everyone’s dismay. _No. Uncle Aemon. He deserved better._

“You saw this?” Jon asked and Bran confirmed with a simple nod. Jon looked like he had already been dealt a great defeat. This was his fear. He wanted to fight against the dead to happen at the Wall or beyond.

Visenya looked to her Uncle Benjen for confirmation of Bran’s words. She did not want to believe them. None of them wanted to believe it. She could see it in his eyes, Bran was not telling any lies. Her mother looked saddened as much as she felt. What should have been a brief escape from the worries of war turned into a realization of their worst fears. Her mother hadn’t even had the time to truly reconnect with her only living brother.

 

“Karhold, Deepwood Motte, Last Hearth, and every other castle, holdfast, and village between here and the Wall have been emptied. Ravens were sent to Eastwatch, the Shadow Tower, and the remaining castles occupied by the Free Folk. Most will not make it before the Dead reach Winterfell,” her uncle informed everyone around the table in a secluded solar within the Great Keep. She could see everyone around the table trying to calculate their next move.

She stood between Jon and her sister at the head of the table with Daenerys on his right. Her Uncle Benjen stood across from them next to her mother, Elia, Ashara Dayne, and her grandmother, Rhaella. Bran stood at the corner near her mother, beside Robb, Margaery, Rickon, and Arya. Besides their Small Council, the heads of the great Houses of Westeros were also present. At the far end of the table to her left stood Grey Worm, Missandei, and their bloodriders.

Visenya focused on the map of the North laid across the table with countless blocks representing their forces at Winterfell. She looked to each keep marked on the map and wondered where the Army of the Dead would strike. _Will the Night King come for us? Or will he try to bypass us and try to add to his numbers in the South?_

“Is anyone from Castle Black left?” Jon asked, looking to Bran for an answer.

“Some…,” Bran said before a long pause, staring at the map. “The Lord Commander, Ser Alliser, is dead. Edd Tollett and Mance Rayder are leading five hundred men south.”

She could see Jon’s eyes darting back and forth, searching for an answer that was hidden on the map. Visenya did not know what to do. They were not fighting men. _We are fighting the Dead. How do the dead think? Do they think?_

“We could fall back to Moat Cailin and regroup there,” Ser Jorah Mormont suggested. Visenya knew the castle standing on the Kingsroad at the Neck was a formidable defensive location that could bring an attacking army with superior numbers to its knees.

“No, we will make our stand here. If we were fighting men, I would agree. Moat Cailin’s advantages may not be worth that much against the Night King and his army. We have the food, weapons, supplies, and dragonglass here. Winterfell is our best chance,” Jon answered, looking to each lord and advisor, seeing if anyone had a plan better than his.

“Do they use any battle tactics?” Stannis Baratheon asked, looking to Jon and Tormund since they were the only ones at the table besides Robb who has seen and fought them.

“At Hardhomme, they overwhelmed us with greater numbers in a frontal assault. Tormund?” Jon asked. Visenya soon realized by the blank stare on Tormund’s face that the free folk knew nothing of battle tactics. They were brave warriors, but they lacked decent weapons, wore little armor, and had not learned any tactics in warfare. _They never had a chance without Mance Rayder._ “When the White Walkers attacked the free folk, did they ever use pincer movements? Did they ever split their forces?”

Tormund looked around the table before answering, “When those fuckers come, the attack with everything they have. Anyone who has stood their ground and fought them is his now.”

“He will attack Winterfell,” Bran added, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Bran is right. He killed the last Three-Eyed Raven. He will come for Bran next,” her uncle said. Visenya looked to Bran. Instead of the blank stare he held since they arrived, she saw a hint of disagreement in his eyes. _He isn’t telling us everything. I will confront him later._

“Can dragonfire kill the White Walkers?” Rhaenys asked, knowing they were different than the wights they commanded. Jon told them everything, every detail he could recall from the Battle of Hardhomme.

“I do not know. No one has tried,” Bran said. Dragonglass and Valyrian steel could. They had already learned that from a raven from Samwell Tarly and Jon killing one at Hardhomme.

“Kill the White Walkers and the dead they raised will fall,” her uncle declared. _Jon never said anything of this._

“You are sure?” her mother asked, earning a nod from her Uncle Benjen.

“We can end this if we kill the Night King. He raised them all,” she heard a voice from the side of the room. Visenya looked past Lord Davos to find Beric Dondarrion to be the one who spoke up.

“You don’t understand, it will not be that easy,” Jon replied with a grimace before turning back to the map below. Visenya had listened carefully to what Jon had to say about their enemy and she knew the Night King would stay back from the fighting. “See to your men and get some rest. We will meet on the morrow and begin preparing the defenses.”

Following their King’s command, the lords and ladies began to leave the solar. Visenya decided she did not need to concentrate on the map any longer. She would save her worries for the morrow. Tonight, she would finally wed Jon in the godswood, making their marriage official in the Seven Kingdoms. When she turned on her heels to find her children and spend time with her children before preparing for the wedding later in the night, she found Samwell Tarly standing in her path.

“Sam!” she cried, rushing to hug her brother’s dear friend. She worried he perished with the others defending Castle Black. After a few seconds, she finally eased her grasp around the timid brother of the Night’s Watch and backed away to look at him. “Why are you in Winterfell?”

“When Bran returned to Castle Black, I came back with him and your Uncle Benjen,” Sam answered, almost interrupted by Jon who came in to embrace his friend. “Jon, I brought Maester Aemon with me.” _Uncle Aemon is still alive? Thank the Gods!_

“Where is he?” Jon asked.

“I will take you to him,” Sam said, leading them both out of the solar, into the corridor lined with Unsullied standing guard. Visenya turned to find her sister catching up with them. It was in that moment, she remembered her sister had never met their uncle in the Night’s Watch. _I am happy for her. She thought he would die long before she ever had the chance to visit Castle Black._

Samwell Tarly eventually led them to a room located near the quarters saved for members of House Stark. As the door parted, Visenya peeked inside to see her frail kin sitting in a chair with a bit of sunlight pouring in through a window onto his face. Visenya felt compelled to rush to his side until she felt Daenerys’ grip around her wrist. Halted in her tracks, she twisted her head to find Rhaenys brushing past her.

“Uncle Aemon…,” her sister could barely get the words out with an audible lump in her throat. Visenya felt a lump in her own throat as her sister knelt down, placing a hand over her uncle’s. She felt Jon’s strong hand move across the small of her back to rest on her hip as they let their sister connect with the only Targaryen she never knew.

“Is that my sweet niece, Rhaenys?” Aemon asked with a trembling hand rising to touch her sister’s face.

“It is,” Rhaenys confirmed, leaning in to hug their great uncle. Visenya felt a tear slip down her cheek, feeling all sorts of emotions for her sister. “I’m so sorry Uncle. I wish I would have seen you before now. I should have flown…” _I never thought this day would come. I will savor every day we have left with him. He will meet our children before he leaves us._

“Shhh….My sweet niece, you are a Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and House Targaryen. I have heard of your deeds, even at Castle Black. The people needed you more than I. We almost must follow our duty. Do not be sorry. Never for me your Grace,” her uncle said, trying to comfort a regretful Rhaenys.

Her uncle’s word told Visenya all she needed to hear. Aemon was still the same old man she met all those years ago at the Wall. He reminded her that doing one’s duty required making hard choices. _Love is the death of duty. He wasn’t wrong. I will always follow my duty, but I would abandon it all for love. I would do anything, unspeakable things for Jon and my children. For Rhaenys and Daenerys. For my mothers and grandmother._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to include boatsex w/ everyone sailing north. Definitely could have done more with White Harbor, the Kingsroad, and the arrival at Winterfell but decided the story needs to move forward. I think I could have done better with the Rhaenys POV. Next chapter includes Visenya and Rhaenys' weddings, planning & prep for the war, & hard decisions for a few characters. Two chapters left with current outline, but the final chapter may split in two depending on how long the Battle of Winterfell takes. Again, leave any questions, critiques, or comments below.
> 
> Can't believe this is the last night for GoT. Really wish D&D handed the reins off to someone else after S6. I still do not buy all the reasons and so-called foreshadowing they used to excuse the last episode. How many times did they say she was a good person in previous behind the scenes. And now we're supposed to believe she is this mentally frail? And they make Jon a complete idiot. And since when has Jon Snow cared what other people think on the show? They try to convince us Daenerys being his aunt is some hang up he cant look past? Not sold. Also, how terrible will it be if Bran rules at the end? Catelyn always feared Jon would steal her children's claim and it could turn out Bran's useless self will take what is rightfully Jon's? Terrible ending. End of rant.


	40. And She Never Wanted to Leave

**Visenya Targaryen**

“I do not see why there should be two weddings,” Rhaenys pondered, sitting at the table behind Visenya within their quarters at Winterfell. She could see the frustration on her sister’s face in the looking glass before her.

“We are to be wed before the old gods. Best not to offend the northern lords while they are in Winterfell. Jon marrying both of us before the weirwood in one ceremony would not sit well with some,” Visenya said, not entirely believing the words coming out her mouth. In secret, she wished for a wedding of her own. _I can share Jon for the rest of our lives, but this one night will be ours._ By the smirk on Sansa’s lips behind her, she could sense her cousin agreed with her response.

“I thought your gods did not have many rules,” Rhaenys said in a playful manner. “Am I wrong, Sansa?”

“No, your Grace…,” Sansa said, halting her braiding of Visenya’s hair. Visenya could see her cousin was nearly finished with the simple northern braid. Vithi had offered to assist her with an intricate Dothraki braid, but Visenya politely declined her loyal handmaiden. She preferred the complex braids just as much as Daenerys or Rhaenys, but they were in the North. _I shall wear a northern braid for a northern wedding._

“What is it? Speak truthfully, we are family,” Rhaenys replied. Visenya could see the trepidation in Sansa’s eyes. Knowing her cousin did not wish to offend, Visenya twisted in her chair to face her sister and Daenerys.

“The old gods do not have many rules, Sister, but they do not necessarily approve of wedding one’s brother,” Visenya told her sister, causing Rhaenys to roll her eyes. Visenya did not even know if she truly believed in any gods, old or Valyrian. _I do know I wish to be wed before the old gods, in Winterfell, before the weirwood tree. If the gods are real, who can say what they truly think? If they frowned upon such things, then why do I have such beautiful children? How could they come from anything that wasn’t right?_

“I should have just wed Jon in Essos and been done with it,” Rhaenys jested, earning a shake of the head from Daenerys. “Sansa, when it is just us, you may call me by my name. I much prefer Rhaenys to your Grace when others are not around.”

“Yes, your… Rhaenys,” Sansa answered, catching herself as she continued to braid Visenya’s hair. _Will she ever relax and stop being a perfect lady?_ She understood Catelyn Stark had shaped Sansa to be the perfect lady, ready to marry some great lord. Sansa’s time spent in King’s Landing under Joffrey’s torment and later Petyr Baelish’s protection likely made her even more cautious around others, Visenya thought.

“How many will be there?” Visenya finally asked, wishing the godswood would not be filled with scheming lords and knights. She wanted to be wed in the North for many reasons. Visenya never thought favorably of the southern weddings and even less so of the extravagant ceremonies she had read about in her family’s history. The Winterfell godswood offered the seclusion and intimacy that she preferred.

“Family, our Small Council, most of the northern lords, and the most important ones from the South. Not many,” Daenerys comforted her, seemingly reading her thoughts. _There will be far more in the Great Hall after. I wish we could skip the feast and retire without seeing any of them._

 “Too many for my liking,” Visenya replied, wishing her wedding was just as Daenerys’. Whenever she tried to imagine what her wedding with Jon looked like, she pictured his wedding in the Winterfell godswood. _I just wish Egg and Father were here to see it. I would give anything to have one of them escort me to the weirwood and give me away._

“There,” Sansa said in a soft tone, tracing her fingers over Visenya’s silver mane to ensure there was not a single strand of hair out of place. “I hope you are not disappointed.”

“It’s perfect Sansa,” she responded, looking over her hair in the reflection for a brief moment. Of all the ladies she knew, she trusted her cousin more than any to not leave any stone unturned while helping a Queen prepare for a wedding.

After Visenya examined her simple yet elegant northern braid, her eyes fell down the looking glass to admire her dress that the dressmakers on Dragonstone started sewing before they took King’s Landing. Her dress was white as a winter snow, similar to the one Daenerys wore when she was wed. Visenya was content with a simple northern dress, but it seemed her mother and grandmother wielded their influence with the dressmakers when she did not have the time to look over such concerns. Subtle hints of dragonscale and dragon wings could be found across the dress.

Even though the dress was sleeved, Visenya knew it would do little to keep her warm. _Jon and his cloak will keep me warm._ As she stood from her chair, she looked over the rest of her dress until she focused on the slight bump in her stomach. Looking at the life growing inside her, she let her hand fall over her stomach, wishing for two healthy babes. _Two more beautiful Targaryen children. Two dragons._

“What is it like? Having children?” Sansa nervously asked in a near whisper. Visenya turned to find her cousin staring at her form in the looking glass. It was then that it struck her. _She is with child. That is why she has been acting strangely since the Battle of Blackwater Rush._

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she responded with a question of her own after realizing Daenerys and Rhaenys had disappeared from the room, likely off to speak with Margaery, Arianne, and Allyria. Seeing her cousin tense up, Visenya continued, “You do not have to answer. What is it like? I will not lie, it is painful and scary. But in the end, when a babe of your own is placed in your arms, it will all have been worth it. Everything else matters less. It changes you. You find out you would do anything, unspeakable things, to protect your children. How far along are you?”

“The maester says four moons,” Sansa answered, drawing Visenya’s eyes to her cousin’s stomach. _Her dresses do well to hide it._

“I am happy for you,” she said, pulling Sansa in for a hug. As she embraced her cousin, she prayed their children would grow to be good friends. If Sansa’s babe were a boy, he would be the next Lord of the Eyrie and Protector of the Vale. _Rhaegar’s Warden of the East._ With the dragons returned to the world, Visenya wished for her children to only wed Targaryens and that their Stark blood would be enough to hold close ties with the other great Houses. The North, Vale, Reach, and Dorne would be tied to them by blood.

“You are the first to know besides Harrold and Allyria,” Sansa spoke softly after withdrawing from her embrace. Her words made Visenya smile, for she was glad to hear Sansa told her older sister before anyone else. _Thank the gods._ Part of her always worried Sansa was too much like Lady Catelyn, who would hold some distain for her natural born sister. She knew Sansa became close to Allyria all those years ago, but she did not know if Sansa’s kindness was to please her father or true love for a sister she just learned was a sister.

“It’s best you tell people soon before they figure things out on their own,” she responded, eyeing Sansa’s belly, letting her cousin know this would not remain a secret forever. “Why haven’t you told anyone? Your babe will be the heir to the Eyrie. That is cause for celebration.”

“I know. I am just nervous. Some ladies lose the babe…,” Sansa started before Visenya closed the space between them, gently grasping her cousin’s arm. Since they had returned to Westeros and been reunited, Visenya had not seen Sansa look this vulnerable. Sansa was changed and for a while, Visenya feared not for the better. _Years under Joffrey’s torment and Littlefinger’s scheming could turn a lady’s heart to ice._

“You will not lose your child. I know it. Enjoy this. This will be the greatest gift your husband could have given you,” she said, hoping to ease Sansa’s fears. “Cherish this time, because it will not get any easier. It will be harder from here and once the child is born, caring for them will consume you.”

“I thought you said it was worth it,” Sansa laughed.

“It is. I swear it,” she replied, seeing Sansa smile.

“I believe you. Allyria said the same,” Sansa confirmed. _I suspected as much. Allyria is a mother. She knows these things as well as I._

“What did I say?” Visenya heard, twisting her head to find Allyria standing in the doorway with an arched eyebrow, suspicious of what they were speaking of. When she began to open her mouth, she saw Allyria’s turn to realization, understanding they were speaking of Sansa’s condition. “I am glad I am not the only one to know now. Visenya, it is time.”

Visenya nodded her head in confirmation before turning to retrieve her last ring, lying before the looking glass on top of the simple dressing table. After sliding the silver banded ring with three dragon heads holding a ruby, she found Brienne of Tarth waiting in her Kingsguard armor behind Allyria. She saw no sign of Daenerys or Rhaenys, suspecting they were already on their way to the godswood.

“You look beautiful,” Allyria said when Visenya stepped forward into the doorway that led to the corridor outside the room. “Are you sure you do not wish to be wed in the sept?” Allyria jested, knowing she had waited this long to be wed in the Winterfell godswood.

“Thank you and no, I will be wed tonight, before the weirwood,” she responded, giving her cousin a knowing look. _She is more than a cousin to me. Allyria is my sister._

Allyria gave her hand a gentle squeeze before leading her into the empty corridor and down the stairs lit by braziers every twenty steps. She had not taken two steps out of the room before Silver was at her side, protecting her in the event someone was able to get by Brienne of Tarth. As she descended the Great Keep, Visenya was reminded by their household guard lining the path with their sheathed swords that she did not have Dark Sister on her hip. Since they set sail for White Harbor, she kept her Valyrian steel sword at her hip at all times. She was initially inclined to carry it with her tonight, but decided against it. _Tonight, I will be Jon’s beautiful Queen and nothing more. Not the warrior. Not the fighter. His Queen._

Staying close on Allyria’s heels, Visenya felt Sansa drape the cloak on her shoulders she must have forgotten. The moment was getting to her. _If someone asked me my name, I do not think I could give it._ Her heart fluttered with emotions as her mind raced with everything she expected from this night. She wanted it to be perfect. Visenya had dreamt of this moment since the time she stayed in Winterfell as a princess. Now that it was here, she was afraid something would go wrong and ruin a perfect ceremony.

Somehow sensing her anxiety, Silver nudged her side, drawing her attention from the clear path across the yard below the Great Keep. Visenya’s eyes met her direwolf’s and felt her loyal companion and protector was trying to tell her everything would be alright. That there was nothing to worry about. Thanking Silver, she scratched her direwolf behind the ear as they passed between the Targaryen household guard in their black armor, holding back the hundreds gathered. Lords, knights, simple soldiers, handmaidens, cooks, blacksmiths, and more were all looking on.

Royal weddings were always a spectacle and brought many lords and ladies from across the Realm to King’s Landing. Only this night, there was no Great Sept of Baelor and they were not in King’s Landing. These people would not see the ceremony, but their attention was captured nonetheless. They could claim to have seen a Targaryen Queen enter the Winterfell godswood to wed a Targaryen King. _Will this ever happen again? Will Daenerys, Rhaenys, and I be the only Targaryen Queens to be wed in the godswood, under the weirwood tree?_

It was only when she passed under the stone archway leading through the wall that separated the godswood from the rest of the castle that Visenya came upon her cousin Robb and his direwolf, Grey Wind. She could not say what exactly it was, but she found something was different about Grey Wind. The direwolf seemed different than the rest. Whenever she thought about it, she guessed it could be because he had seen more battles than the rest. The tales of Robb’s wolf in the Riverlands and Westerlands had spread across the Seven Kingdoms during the war and managed to reach their ears in Meereen.

“It’s not too late, you know. We can always find you a better match, your Grace,” Robb jested in a playful tone. She was glad to find his cheerfulness relaxing. Her shoulders felt less tense and she could finally begin to breathe again.

“I am afraid it is too late, Robb. My northern fool has my heart and there is nothing to be done about it,” she replied with a smirk on her lips as she slid her arm through his own so he could escort her to the weirwood. The path that lied ahead was lit by lanterns hanging from iron poles standing every dozen paces. She could see Allyria and Sansa rounding the curve in the path nearly one hundred feet ahead with the direwolves trekking close behind. Visenya inhaled the cold northern air one last time before turning to Robb, “Now take me to my King.”

With the snow crunching below their feet, Robb led her through the godswood, passing every tree she had committed to memory. She knew where every tree within the walls stood and knew exactly where to hide when one wished to be alone. This night, she did not wish to be alone. She wanted to share it with her husband and King. She was already his Queen, wife, and mother to his children, but this wedding would make their marriage official in the Seven Kingdoms.

At the end of the illuminated path weaving through the Winterfell godswood, Visenya could see the dozens of lords and ladies waiting for her. To her left, she could see the familiar faces of northern lords and ladies. Standing on the other side of their path were the lesser lords and ladies from the mountain clans with a mix of the leaders of the free folk. She could see Tormund Giantsbane was ready to be done with the ceremony and celebrate in the Great Hall.

Moving past the free folk and mountain clans, Visenya found the lords of the great Houses, several lords from the Crownlands, and their Small Council waiting for her. All of them were either fierce allies or family, except for Jaime Lannister and Yara Greyjoy. She did not care for their presence, but did not let the feeling linger. Beyond their lords and advisors stood House Stark. Margaery clutched her sleeping son in her arms while Lady Catelyn stood next to her with little Ned Stark at her feet. Nearly hidden from her sight, Bran and Rickon stood at the edge of the pool next to the weirwood. She could see the steam rolling off the surface as the water warmed by the hot springs mixed with the harsh winter air.

After glimpsing her kin to her right, she laid eyes upon her family to the left, protected by their Kingsguard. She never felt happier than this moment, seeing her children smile as she approached the weirwood. Her eldest, Jon and Dany, stuck together with her mother keeping a hand on both their little shoulders. Visenya gave Brandon and Sansa a smile when they attempted to run to her side, only to be stopped by Elia Martell.

Finally standing before the weirwood tree, she set her eyes upon Jon. He looked just as she always imagined. He wore his heavy furred cloak over his leather gambeson he preferred while in the North. She never imagined marrying him in a sept in the South. Where they stood now. What he wore. This was all she had dreamt of and hoped for. The only thing different than her dreams as a swooning princess were the scars on his face and his raven curls tied up behind his head. _I think I prefer him this way._

“Who comes before the old gods?” Samwell Tarly asked, standing next to Jon. She almost missed his words as her eyes locked with Jon’s. She felt lost in his storm grey eyes again. Visenya never grew tired of staring into them every morning of every day. _When I search for the truth, I can find it in his eyes. All I see is love. His love for me. I know he sees the same in me. Love comes in the eyes._

“Visenya of the House Targaryen, comes here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn, and royal. She comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?” Robb announced.

Time felt like it began to slow as she watched her love step closer. She swore she would not do it, but she felt the quiver in her chin and the tears forming in her eyes. Visenya wondered if she looked ridiculous, overcome with emotion at ceremony, binding her to the man she already shared a family with.

“Jon of the House Targaryen, King of the Seven Kingdoms and Essos, Lord and Protector of the Realm. Who gives her?” Jon answered. His gaze never left her as he spoke the words, giving her the feeling that they were the only ones present. Everyone else did not matter in that moment. Only herself and Jon.

“Robb of the House Stark. Her cousin.”

“Queen Visenya, will you take this man?” Samwell Tarly asked.

“I take this man,” Visenya proclaimed with a near tremble in her voice. To her relief, Jon took her hand with his own, stopping her from adding anything else to the ceremony. If there were more words for her to say before the old gods, she did not know them. With his warm, calloused hand securely around hers, they knelt before the weirwood on the snow-covered ground.

On her knees with her head bowed before the face carved by the Children of the Forest long ago, Visenya prayed. She did not consider herself to be a believer in the gods, but she respected the traditions of her ancestors and saw some value in the beliefs held by the First Men. _Let the children inside me grow and come into this world in a time of peace. Give our children strength and hope. Let them see many springs and summers. Protect our House. Keep Jon safe and watch over him in the wars to come. I cannot lose him._

Almost as soon as she was finished making her wishes known to the old gods, Visenya felt Jon’s hand grip her own. She was grateful for his impatience to get on with it. Visenya was using all her will to fight the urge within her to pounce on her husband there and show him how much she loved him. _He has given me everything I ever wanted. He gave me his heart and his love. He made me a mother. He taught me how to wield a sword and gave me Dark Sister._

Once on her feet again, she turned to look upon her husband and King. Her vision slightly blurred as her walls fell down. She was too happy to fight her true feelings. It was not just their family present. Dozens of lords and ladies were there to see their King wed their Queen. _Let them see our love for one another. If they think me a weak Queen, so be it. Any treachery will be met with fire and blood._

Almost as soon as Jon wiped a tear from her cheek, his lips were inching closer to her own. Visenya let her half-hooded eyes shut as his lips left a searing kiss on her own. Everything around them was cold, but together, they were as warm as dragonfire. Many thought Jon was more Stark than Targaryen, more wolf than dragon. Visenya knew better. _He is a dragon. My dragon._

 

The Great Hall of Winterfell was thrown into a chaos by southern standards. Everywhere she looked, Visenya found northmen and free folk deep into their cups. And it was not just them. It took little encouragement for the men from the other six kingdoms to join them in their state of celebration. While not as enthusiastic for feasts as her sister, Visenya did not mind the behavior and words coming from the men. _For many, this will be one of their last nights to celebrate._

People were celebrating their marriage before they had even reached the Great Hall. Men and women cheered the moment he carried her out of the godswood and into the yard just outside the secluded place of worship. Wherever she looked on her way to the feast, Westerosi men cheered and raised horns of ale to their marriage. Some celebrated because they needed a reason to get drunk. Some cheered because they sought their favor. And some did so because they were true friends and allies. The truest of them appeared to be their Dothraki, northmen, and free folk. It was only their Unsullied that stood in contrast to everyone else in Winterfell. Ever dutiful, they were still as statues, always on guard to protect House Targaryen.

Before they reached the Great Keep, one could already hear the celebrations ringing out within and without the walls of Winterfell. After weeks of hard marching on the Kingsroad in winter, the hundreds of thousands of men that made up their army needed something. _On this night and the next, they will celebrate. On the morrow and every day after, we will prepare for the Great War._

The further the feast went, the more Visenya wished to be in her bedchambers. She knew the lords and knights meant well by their toasts, but she had heard enough praise for one night. Throughout the night, she was reminded that if she had to endure these sorts of things for the rest of her life, she would ask for Tormund Giantsbane to toast to herself, Jon, or House Targaryen. _He makes things far more interesting than the rest._

“Are you alright?” she heard Jon ask, sitting next to her, as his hand fell onto her own underneath the table.

“Yes,” she replied with a feigned smile. She truly was happy, but she did not wish to be there anymore. _I just want it to be us. You, Daenerys, Rhaenys, and I._ When she turned her head to face him, she saw his questioning look. He did not believe her. “No. Can we leave?”

“As my Queen commands,” Jon said to her relief, standing from his chair with an open hand for her to grasp. Visenya did not hesitate to join him and took his hand as she stood from her chair at the center of the dais. The Great Hall became as silent as it could be, with most acknowledging their retirement from the feast.

Their Kingsguard led the way out of the hall, with Daenerys and Rhaenys walking just ahead of her. Even as they distanced themselves from the feast they had just attended, Visenya could still hear the men sing their songs and drink their ales. From within the keep, she could hear the men unfortunate enough to be parted from a warm hearth celebrating this night.

When they eventually made their way to the area of the Great Keep reserved for her family, she found Snow, Shadow, and Zokla guarding the children’s rooms. The motherly instincts inside her told Visenya to go to them and see that they were safe and asleep. As she contemplated which of the babes she would seek out first, she remembered her mother telling her that she and Elia would look over the children. _They can do without me for one night I suppose._

Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Barristan Selmy parted after opening the door to their chambers, taking up their posts for the night. Visenya started to plot how she would make love to her husband as they stepped through the doorway. Imagining what she planned to do to him, her thoughts were interrupted by his strong arms swiping her legs off the ground. Jon did not give her a chance to surprise him as he carried her for the rest of the short journey to their bed. In his arms, she wrapped her own arms around his neck and tilted her chin up to seal her lips with his.

“I love you,” she nearly whimpered when his lips broke from hers after she savored his taste.

“And I love you,” he said, capturing her lips again as she felt him gently lay her down on their bed below. Visenya could feel her wet folds begging for his entrance. Her only problem was removing her dress. She did not wish ruin it and worried Jon would lose his patience. She saw the hunger in his eyes and knew his frustration could get the better of him and lead to the tearing of the dress she would keep forever.

“Hold on,” Rhaenys ordered, placing a hand over Jon’s chest before leaning down to assist her removal of the white dress with Daenerys’ aid. As they helped her escape the trappings of the beautifully sewn wedding dress, Visenya’s eyes did not leave Jon’s. She did not need to say any words. Her eyes let him know she wanted him to fuck her until the only thing that was on her lips was his name.

When her small clothes finally pooled on the bearskin rug beneath her feet, she felt his eyes move up and down her skin. He admired everything. Visenya knew he loved her amethyst eyes and silver hair. Jon loved her breasts in his mouth and his hands on her ass. Both of them were naked as their first nameday and it was only when she discovered his eyes were set on her glistening folds that he made his move.

“Gods, you are so beautiful,” Jon said as he closed the space between them. She loved the feeling of his hard cock pressed against her stomach as his tongue plunged into her lips. In between the kisses he left from her mouth, down her neck, and finally to her breasts, he told her how much he loved her.

“You are mine, Senya,” Jon growled after releasing her breast from his mouth with a distinct pop as his hand kneaded the other. “And I am yours,” he continued before shifting his attention to her other breast.

“I am yours and you are mine,” she echoed as she ran her fingers through his raven curls after discarding the tie that held his hair back. Jon continued to play with her breasts, knowing she was only getting wetter for him. He knew everything about her and she knew everything about him. Because of that, her body was at his mercy. The feeling of his teeth grazing her hard nipples and his fingers beginning to circle her nub were the final blows that tore down her walls.

With a gasp, she pushed him away. _I will not tolerate this anymore. I need him, all of him._ Visenya gathered her breath and fell back into the bed as Jon stared her down like a wolf ready to tear through its prey. Rhaenys and Daenerys joined her on either side as she spread her legs, teasing him as she began to run her fingers along her folds before strumming her clit. “If you love me my King, you will get inside your Queen,” she teased him in High Valyrian.

Visenya did not need to say anything more. Her mother tongue stoked the fire inside him if it had not already been lit. She felt herself only hunger for his strength and warmth more upon seeing the fury and passion in his eyes as he took his place between her legs. He was not gentle, but he was also not rough when he grabbed her thighs as he sheathed himself in her aching cunt. The feeling of his cock almost made her forget Daenerys’ kneading of her breast and Rhaenys’ fingers on her clit.

With each powerful thrust, Visenya met Jon’s passion with her legs pulling him back for more. Every time his hips collided with her skin, he went a little deeper. Further and further, he filled her core. And the further he went, her soft moans and whimpers turned to soft cries of pleasure. She cried his name and begged for him to give her more even if she did not believe her core could take more of him.

“Jon…my love…,” she tried to warn him she was ready to cum for him. Visenya could sense it. Her muscles were beginning to tense and her walls were ready close on him. She could see he was near his peak just as her eyelids started to fall over her eyes. _I am not going to let him outlast me. We will fall from this peak together._ “Jon, cum for me. Give me…,” she continued until her Valyrian failed her.

Her will to holdout any longer failed as her as his final thrusts filled her to the hilt, causing a wave of pleasure to ripple through her body. Visenya saw stars as she cried his name. The feeling of her cunt clenching his cock and his hot seed coating her walls was everything she needed. It was the feeling of his love. She writhed under him as his thrusts became uncontrolled and sporadic in rhythm until she felt his weight collapse on her.

He was covered in a sheen of sweat just as she was. Visenya could still feel her toes curled up and her muscles finally easing with Jon still inside her. Despite giving her his seed, he was still hard for her in the moments after they found each other’s ecstasy together. She wished to keep him inside her, but did not have the strength to fight him as he began to soften. _I need him, where he belongs._

As their chests rose and fell together, Visenya held his head against her chest with her fingers digging into his hair. She was afraid to let him go. _I need him here, with me, in my arms. How many nights will we have like this? I could lose him. He could lose me._ Her unshed tears of pleasure were starting to turn into tears of sadness and misery.

The feeling of Daenerys and Rhaenys nuzzling against their sides reminded her that she was not alone with this feeling. Both had confessed to her their worries for the war to come. Each feared losing all they had built, but like herself, Daenerys and Rhaenys feared losing Jon more than anything. _We will make love tonight and every night after. I will take and worship every moment we have left together, whether that be a fortnight or decades. I will love him. I will love Rhaenys and Daenerys. We will love each other._

 

 

**Jon Targaryen**

Unlike the summer snows he remembered that could cover the ground one day and be gone the next, winter did not melt away the white landscape. The Winterfell godswood looked the same as it did the night before when Jon wed Visenya. Now he stood at the edge of the pool nearest the weirwood tree with Robb beside him. Through the steam rising off the calm black surface of water, Jon could see his sons, Valarr and Aemon, running from Ghost and Grey Wind with their cousin, Ned Stark.

A feeling of pride and relief swelled inside him at the sight. He was glad to find his children got along with their northern kin. He did not know if children could dislike one another at their age, but he was still relieved. His nephew would one day come to rule Winterfell and the North. Jon wished for his children to share more than blood ties with their cousins. Robert Baratheon was a distant cousin to his father and that did not stop the simmering tension that stood between them for years. _Viserys tried to destroy our entire House for a crown. Blood is not enough to ensure loyalty._

“The scouts have seen nothing?” he asked Robb, curious if any of the northmen had spoken with him first. Jon expected the Night King and his army to be hundreds of miles away, but he still wanted to prepare for the worst. He knew they were facing an army that does not sleep, tire, nor rest.

Waiting for an answer, Jon turned to his cousin when he said nothing, only shaking his head. When Jon shifted his gaze to the children at play across the pool, running in and out of the trees, he realized Robb was committing the scene to memory. Jon knew this because he realized he had been doing the same since he set foot on Dragonstone. If someone asked, he could recall every moment he spent with his children since their return to Westeros.

“And Bran?” he continued, wondering if Bran had spoken with Robb.

“He says they are near Queenscrown, but I don’t know…,” Robb said, turning around to look back at Bran speaking with Jojen and Meera Reed. Jon noticed Bran spoke few words and when he did, it was usually with the heir to Greywater Watch. Lord Howland’s son seemed to be the only one who could get information from Bran or understood what he had to say when he spoke in riddles. “I will keep sending scouts north. He isn’t the same. He could be wrong.”

“If he is wrong about the Night King, everyone south of Winterfell will die,” Jon admitted, knowing the Night King could swing past Winterfell and attack the unprotected lands to the south. If that were to happen, he knew he would have no choice but to use the dragons and slow their march until an army could catch them.

“You do not plan to use the dragons,” Robb stated. Jon paused, turning to see his cousin was not asking a question. _He is a far better battle tactician than the other lords._ “Earlier, when we were overseeing the construction of the spikes and trench, I knew. If you were using the dragons, the oil would not need to be within range of our archers.”

“My Queens, they do not know,” he confessed, realizing he would need to tell them tonight, after the feast. Now it wasn’t just himself and Lord Davos Seaworth who knew. He guessed Arthur, Oswell, and Barristan knew as well, but they said nothing. “After I tell them, I will inform the lords.”

“They will not like it. The dragons give them courage,” Robb told him truthfully. Instead of arguing for their use or questioning his judgement, Robb warned him of how the lords and the soldiers would be affected. Jon knew Robb understood his reasoning after seeing what their enemy was capable of at Hardhomme. Robb was a battle-hardened commander who had never seen defeat and Jon presumed his cousin feared a dragon falling in the hands of the Dead just as much as he did.

“This is a war for the living. If we fall, everyone we know and love will die before winter ends. I have hope that will be enough for our men,” Jon said, watching Aemon running with Ned Stark after Ghost. “If that is not enough, nothing will be.”

The sound of more people gathering behind them reminded Jon why they were here. He was to be wed to Rhaenys. This was supposed to be a joyous occasion, even in the darkest of times. There would be plenty of time to plan for the war to come. Deciding to turn their conversation away from the threat to the north, Jon continued, “Your son looks like he will be a strong boy. Does he ask to learn the sword?”

“He does,” Robb replied after a small laugh. “He is still too young to really know what they are, but he sees them and knows he wants one. He still likes to play with little dragons and wolves.”

“Dragons?” Jon asked.

“Small dragons carved from wood. When Margaery told him about his uncle and aunts flying across Essos on great beasts breathing fire, he wanted one,” Robb answered. _How many children in this world play with little dragons or imagine themselves dragonlords? How many look up with wonder and awe? How many think of them with hate and anger?_ Jon knew there were those is Essos who saw dragons and only saw death and destruction. He prayed their number were few and strictly amongst the former rulers they overthrew. He knew there were families in the Westerlands and Iron Islands that would hate House Targaryen forever. Thousands burned at the Gullet, along the Blackwater Rush, and atop the walls of King’s Landing.

Jon was ready to ask Robb more questions about his nephew until he saw his sons running along the edge of the pool with their cousin and Ghost. Normally, Jon would have been more cautious and rushed to keep the boys from falling in, but it appeared his direwolf was mindful of the risk. Ghost ran next to the princes, staying between them and the black pool.

“Father, can we see the dragons? Ned wants to see. We promised,” Valarr asked through heavy breaths, tired from all the running.

“Not tonight, my son,” Jon denied them, feeling the sense of anguish pass over their faces. “There is no time and the dragons could be anywhere. It is not safe. Maybe on the morrow.”

“But…,” Aemon wanted to argue, but held his tongue when Jon ruffled his silver curls and lifted him off the ground.

“I swear it, my son. We will see the dragons soon and we can bring your cousin Ned. If that is alright?” Jon turned looking to Robb who gave him a simple nod, trusting he would not let anything happen. With his son in his arms, Jon turned to find Daenerys and Visenya approaching his mothers and grandmother near the weirwood. Daenerys gave him a look that told him it was nearly time. Setting Aemon back on the ground next to Valarr, he continued, “Go to your mothers and behave yourselves.”

“Are you ready to be wed a third time?” Robb asked.

“Aye,” Jon confirmed, moving to follow his children’s footsteps across the snow toward the weirwood tree.

When Jon reached his place at the end of the path leading from the entrance of the godswood to the weirwood, he looked over to his two Queens. He smiled at each of them, admiring their beauty in their similar grey dresses, nearly hidden underneath their winter cloaks. Daenerys looked to have her hands full keeping their son Eddard still while Visenya held a sleeping Rhaenyra in her arms, only letting her go after Doreah insisted on taking her.

The godswood almost mirrored the previous night, only with more Dornish lords in attendance than his wedding to Visenya. Rhaenys insisted they invite the most loyal lords who raised their banners for House Targaryen and would have marched with Lord Alaric Dayne. He did not spend more than a brief moment observing who was there to see a royal wedding. His focus was centered on the lit path that carved its way through the lords and ladies, onto the unseen entrance of the godswood.

He did not know if he was impatient or simply felt like time was coming to a slow crawl. His nerves were getting the better of him, just as they had when he wed Daenerys and Visenya. He had known them all his life. Jon loved them all his life. The thought never crossed his mind before, but he had bedded each of his Queens before their weddings. _Why do I feel like a green boy who has never seen a woman before?_

Only when Arianne Martell and Allyria Tyrell came forward did Jon feel the anxiousness dissipate. They were supposed to be helping Rhaenys prepare for the ceremony. Moments after Arianne joined Edric’s side and Allyria found Willas standing with House Stark, Jon finally caught a glimpse of Rhaenys walking past the flickering lanterns.

His older sister and Queen walked with such grace, he knew she was born to be a Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Like Daenerys and Visenya on their wedding nights, Rhaenys wore an elegant white dress that blended with the snow around her. Unlike Visenya’s dress, Rhaenys’ failed to hide her large breasts. Jon guessed she was determined not to let winter and the North force her to cover all her skin. He wanted to admire her breasts, but Jon found himself caught in a trance by her beautiful face and amethyst eyes. _Gods she is perfect. I do not deserve her._

“Who comes before the old gods?” Robb asked, standing next to him in a northern cloak similar to his own.

“Rhaenys of the House Targaryen, comes here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn, and royal. She comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?” Arthur Dayne replied, standing beside Rhaenys as her escort. Jon was glad she chose Arthur and not Jaime Lannister. He would not have stopped her, but he presumed she thought it best not to bring a source of tension between them on their wedding night.

“Jon of the House Targaryen, King of the Seven Kingdoms and Essos, Lord and Protector of the Realm. Who gives her?” he answered, promising himself not to be lost in her ethereal beauty. Jon was ready to claim her there. Her soft, full lips were inviting and he loved how her dark brown hair fell around her face with most of it tied up in intricate braids.

“Arthur of the House Dayne. Her protector and Kingsguard.”

“Queen Rhaenys, will you take this man?” Robb asked.

“I take this man,” Rhaenys said in what he thought was the seductive voice she saved for their bedchambers. He did not know if it was intentional or by accident. _Or am I imagining this?_ Whatever he heard, it did not matter. She was his and he was hers. He swore to the old gods and new, he would protect her and love her for the rest of his life just as he had when he wed Daenerys and Visenya.

Knelt before the familiar face carved into the weirwood, Jon closed his eyes and searched for a prayer he could offer to the gods. He tried and failed to ask of them something he had not when he wed Visenya. _Is she praying to the old gods? Or is she going along with ceremony and tradition as I am?_

With a soft nudge of his hand, Rhaenys let him know she was ready to stand as his wife and Queen, to be carried out of the godswood to the Great Hall. As soon as they were on their feet, facing one another, Jon lifted the Targaryen cloak off of her shoulders and placed a similar one over her. Jon did not realize how impatient Rhaenys was until she closed the space between them and sealed her lips with his before he could ensure the cloak was secure on her shoulders.

Rhaenys’ sweet taste and full lips were enough to make him forget about everything around them. In the moment, it was only them, together. Nothing else mattered. Thoughts of war, ruling the Seven Kingdoms, or protecting the smallfolk across their lands did not occupy his thoughts. _I pray I make her as happy as she makes me. If not, I have failed her._

Their kiss lasted longer than was likely deemed appropriate but he did not care. He traced his tongue along her bottom lip after plunging into her mouth just seconds before. To his surprise, Rhaenys was the one to part from the kiss. She was always his Queen who was full of passion and fury. He never expected himself to be the one to get carried away before the weirwood tree.

Holding her flush against his body, he remembered all the moments they had built together since Astapor while staring into her inviting eyes. There was always something mysterious to her eyes. Jon loved to admire how dark her violet eyes could get while still holding their beautiful color. Sometimes he thought they reminded him of the stormy skies over Dragonstone just before nightfall while other times he thought they were so ethereal that nothing in this world could be compared to them.

The trance she put him under was broken when she cleared her throat, reminding him that their wedding was far from over. Knowing she was just as impatient as he was to retire to their bedchambers, Jon swiftly scooped her off the ground and carried her across the snowy ground. Occasionally, he would pay attention to the path ahead that weaved through the lords and ladies in attendance. Mostly, he focused on Rhaenys in his arms.

“This isn’t the Great Sept of Baelor,” she finally broke the loving silence that lingered since they knelt before the weirwood tree. He could see this was not the wedding she had imagined nor expected. What he could not tell was whether she felt disappointment or a pleasant joy.

“Do you regret not being wed on Dragonstone or King’s Landing?” he asked, afraid she would say yes.

“No, my fool. I am happy. Happier than I can remember. It’s just…,” Rhaenys answered, taking a moment to consider her words as they passed through the various trees that filled the Winterfell godswood. “This is unexpected. I never imagined our life or this night. Our love, the family we have built, all of it. I sound like a stupid girl…”

“No, you don’t,” he stopped her, not wanting her to think herself foolish for expressing her true thoughts. “You are one of the smartest women I know and one of the most passionate. Never let anything or anyone, including myself change that. You are my Queen and I promise to love you until the end of our days. Never change, promise me.”

“I promise,” she replied before tilting her head up to capture his lips once again, nearly drawing blood as she bit down on his lower lip. It was only the sound of the men and women beyond the walls separating the godswood from the yard that caused him to break away from her searing lips.

 

Their time in the Great Hall lasted longer than he would have preferred, but Jon was just thankful to be away from the countless lords wishing to speak with him. The fact that it was a feast celebrating his marriage to Rhaenys did not stop several lords angling for power and his favor. He rather endure the men proposing plans for the defense of Winterfell. _Many of them still do not understand. One has to see to know, Daenerys said. She is right. Why do I ever question her?_

His mind was centered on the impending battle until he removed his last tunic and turned to see Rhaenys discard her smallclothes with Visenya’s assistance. All three of his Queens were naked as their first nameday, gracefully making their way to the bed covered in heavy furs. Only when Rhaenys turned around and sat at the edge of the bed with her legs spread wide, inviting him to fill her, Jon realized his heart was beating out of his chest.

Watching Daenerys and Visenya’s soft hands graze Rhaenys’ inner thighs before finding their way to her wet cunt was all the encouragement he needed to hurry his undressing. His cock was already fighting to get out of his breeches before he threw them to the floor and made his way to the bed. This night was for Rhaenys, but Jon leant down to kiss both Daenerys and Visenya. He wanted to remind them of his love and reciprocate their passion for him before he poured everything he had into pleasing Rhaenys.

“Gods, I love you…,” Jon said, looking down at all three of his Queens with one hand still clutching Daenerys’ silver mane and the other running through Visenya’s smooth hair that fell around her like a waterfall.

His eyes were finally settled on Rhaenys and Jon knew she was ready for him by the way her hips twitched and moved forward inch by inch, begging him to give her what she wanted. No longer able to deny her or himself, Jon put his knees on the bed and took his place over his bride. His gaze lifted from Visenya fingering Rhaenys’ nub to the small bump on her stomach to her large breasts that rose and fell with every breath.

The second he ran his hand through her braided hair, he guided his cock with the other into her tight entrance. As he sucked on her pulse, he slowly thrust into her cunt that was as secure around his cock as the first time he made love to her in Astapor. Like Daenerys and Visenya, he thought she was born to be his wife and he her husband. Everything they had was perfect. Jon would not ask for anything better.

“Jon…oh….,” Rhaenys began to moan as he released his lips from the soft skin of her neck. He continued to push his hips into her while watching the power of his thrusts pass through her body. Time after time, he buried himself into her core, causing her breasts to bounce at a rhythmic pace. “Fuck…Jon…my love…”

“Rhae…” he let out as her moans and whimpers got to him. He was beginning to feel himself ready to spill as her walls began to close in on him. Each cry pushed him a little further to the edge. When Daenerys dipped her head to capture Rhaenys’ lips and silence her sobs as best she could, Jon swore to himself he would make her cum before spilling inside her.

One of his hands held a firm grip on her left hip while the other seized Rhaenys’ breast, kneading and teasing her hard nipple. While he gave her everything he had, Visenya was hard at work to break the dam and assist Rhaenys’ search for her peak, circling her clit with her fingers. The further they went, the louder Rhaenys became, crying their names despite Daenerys’ efforts to muffle her sobs of pleasure.

“Jon…faster…please…I am going…,” Rhaenys sobbed in High Valyrian until he dove down to seal her lips as he made his final thrusts. Jon committed all this strength to burying his cock inside her and with each strike at her core, he felt himself near his peak. Another few moments of their lovemaking led Rhaenys to drawing blood, biting his bottom lip as her nails dug into his back and her heels pulled the back of his thighs toward her begging cunt.

Jon felt a wave of relief and ecstasy when Rhaenys’ body shuddered uncontrollably beneath him just as he filled her with his seed. He pulled on her hair a little stronger as his rhythm was lost with the final few thrusts into her wet folds before withdrawing from her beautiful cunt. No matter how many times they made love nor how strong his training made him, he arms failed him, causing him to collapse on top of Rhaenys.

Thoroughly spent and covered in sweat, Jon laid on top of Rhaenys, inhaling her familiar scent and soaps she preferred with his nose buried in her dark brown hair. As they laid there, gathering their breath, he wondered if anything smelled as good as his wives after sex. _Likely not._

When his body was fully recovered, Jon lifted his weight off Rhaenys and rolled over to the small, empty space between her and Daenerys. Without her body flush against his own to keep him warm, he pulled Rhaenys and Daenerys to him. In their bed, they were the blazing hearths that kept him warm and burned away his darkest thoughts. _Without them, I would be lost. A fool for a King with no direction._

 

Jon awoke to the howl of a wolf outside the Great Keep. His eyes fluttered upon as another wolf echoed the first to tear him from his sleep. After years of getting to know their ways, he understood the howls were not warning of a threat and he did not concern himself with what was going on in the godswood. He presumed the howls came from Nymeria and Lady’s pack.

Knowing he could not go back to sleep, he gently moved a sleeping Rhaenys off his torso so he could withdraw from their bed. After he lifted her arm off his chest and brushed aside her leg that was entangled with his own, he heard her mumble something. She still needed her rest after their long night and he made sure to lift the furs up to her chin before laying a soft kiss upon her temple.

He felt a bit of pride spread across his face as he expertly withdrew from the bed without waking Daenerys or Visenya after years of good practice. His pride was quickly tampered by the chill that seeped into his bones as he stood in their bedchambers that were noticeably colder than when they fell asleep. The last embers were burning in the hearth, defeated by the cold of winter. Winterfell was not nearly as cold as the other castles in the North, but Jon knew Rhaenys and Daenerys needed the fire to keep them warm.

Careful not to make too much noise, Jon snuck over to the hearth and placed the five remaining blocks of chopped wood into the smoldering fire, renewing its strength after a bit of prodding. Once he was satisfied that the fire would sustain itself, he stood on his feet and leaned against the cold stone wall, watching the flames dance below. _I see nothing but flames. Melisandre is mad like the rest of her faith or she truly has powers I will never understand._

The longer he looked into the flames, the more he contemplated how he would confess his plans to his Queens. They would not like it and would likely object. He knew their arguments and had no doubt they would scold him for commanding them to flee south. _I cannot relent to their will this time. I must do this. I must do as all the Kings before me and force my will upon them, for their own good._

“Jon…Jon…,” Rhaenys’ soft voice finally broke him from his thoughts, leading him to look toward the sight upon their bed. Rhaenys was sitting up with her breasts peaking just above the furs clinging to her body. He couldn’t help but notice the effect the cold had on her and was tempted to return to her side and devour her there. “Come back to bed and keep your Queen warm. It is too early to brood.”

“Aye,” he replied, turning back to the flames dancing in the hearth. _Fire will not win us this war. Only blood. The blood of men who do not even know the enemy they will face._

“What is wrong?” her heard Rhaenys ask over the sound of her feet crossing the stone floor behind him. He must have lost track of time and forgotten his promise to return to her. When Jon turned around, Rhaenys was naked as her first nameday, quickly pulling herself flush against his front to make up for the loss of her furs. After laying a gentle kiss on his chest, she looked up with her soft, kind eyes. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing,” he replied, not wanting to speak about it.

“It’s not nothing. If it were, you would be lying in bed, making love to me instead of standing here brooding,” Rhaenys countered, narrowing her eyes, trying to tear the truth from him.

“Rhaenys, please, go back to sleep. Do not worry for…,” he tried to fight off her assault, only to be cut off by the glare she gave him.

“You are a terrible liar. Tell me the truth. Something has been weighing on you since we left White Harbor. I can see it in your eyes. You are a fool if you think I do not know you well enough to know when something is wrong,” she countered, searching his eyes for the truth.

“Rhae,” he let out as he dipped his head to capture her lips, savoring her taste for only a brief moment before she pushed him away. _She is right. I cannot lie to them._

“Jon…,” Rhaenys said, looking up to him with a face that expected the truth. He had avoided this for as long as he could, but he needed to finally face this coming conflict. _They need to know. I just wish we had more time._

“Before the dead arrive, I will be sending you and the rest of our family south. The dragons will go with you,” he finally told her of his plans. He found no joy telling her of his true thoughts. He could see the fire building in her dark violet eyes, ready to devour him in dragonflame.

“What?” she replied in a near scream, waking Daenerys and Visenya from their peaceful sleep. From the corner of his vision, he could see puzzled looks on their faces. “You cannot be serious!”

“What is going on?” Daenerys asked, walking toward them while fighting to open her eyes from the sleep she had been torn from.

“You tell them,” Rhaenys commanded with venom on her tongue. If she did not love him, he would have guessed she would drive a dagger in his heart right then if she could. He had never seen her this furious since the attack on their family in Pentos.

“What is it?” Visenya asked in a worried tone and eyes that were filled with panic after seeing Rhaenys’ current state.

“Each of you will ride south with the rest of our family and the dragons. We cannot use them in this war and I will not risk your lives, not while you are with child,” he confessed, sensing the simmering anger under Visenya’s calm face.

“I am not with child. What kind of Queen would I be if I did not…,” Daenerys protested until he pulled her and Visenya to him.

“A Queen who lives. A Queen who will go on to do great things for our House and for our people. I cannot fight the dead if I am worrying about you. I have seen our enemy. I know what he can do. If we use our dragons, they will fall,” he said to incredulous faces, furious with his decision.

“But…,” Visenya tried to argue.

“Listen to me. We have the numbers to win. If the Night King kills one of our dragons, he will defeat us. I know it. You know it,” he said, hoping they truly believed everything he had to say after returning from Hardhomme. _Please do not question me now._ “If we are defeated, I need you to protect our family. Fight them as long as you can or fly as far away as you can. I do not care. Just protect yourselves and our children.”

“Jon, I am not going to sit by and let you fight alone. I am…,” Daenerys argued more, finally breaking his will to remain calm.

“Daenerys! Listen to me,” he yelled at her for the first time he could remember. He saw the hurt on her face as she recoiled from his grasp, never seeing him angered with her in their entire life. _Please forgive me Dany. This hurts me more than you can imagine._ “Listen to me. Dany, Rhae, Senya, I love each of you. I have never forced you to do anything until now. Do this, for me and our children. We must protect them. This is the only way.”

Jon did not know if it was his words or themselves that finally convinced them to no longer fight him. He feared for an argument that would last hours. They had disagreements before but they had never truly fought amongst themselves. _If I live, I pray I never see that look from them again._

Even worse than their disappointment and anger, was the silence that came after. All he could do was stand there, holding them in his arms, praying they would follow through with their nods of acceptance. Visenya had always trusted his battle plans and decision-making when it came to ruling, but he knew Rhaenys and Daenerys were far more likely to change their minds. Rhaenys was fiery and impulsive. Daenerys held no fear and never liked him standing alone. _Do this for me. This war is no place for Queens. Not my Queens._

 

 

**Lyanna Stark**

Unease, that is what she felt. Jon carried himself with the calm and self-confidence a King should through the meeting. The high lords were displeased to hear the dragons would not be used in the battle against the dead. Lord Randyll Tarly and Lord Leyton Hightower were the boldest of them all, voicing their disagreement and contempt for the decision. Lyanna still felt the anger she held for the two lords questioning her son’s capabilities as a commander. _Lord Randyll still thinks himself a brilliant commander because he defeated Robert Baratheon in one battle. My son has conquered Essos and retaken the Seven Kingdoms._

It was only her confidence in Jon and her apprehensiveness to undermine his authority that held her tongue. She was glad she did because the meeting went on and Jon won over the majority of the lords listening to his planned defense of Winterfell. His ability to lead and inspire the men around him silenced Lord Tarly and Lord Hightower for the remainder of the meeting. _They should look to the Dothraki. If they are willing to unite and change their ways with Jon leading them, how could they ever question his judgement?_

Despite the pride she felt as Jon went over their points of attack outside the walls of Winterfell while Robb instructed the lords how to defend the walls, she knew something was off. Daenerys and Rhaenys seemed distant during the planning. Neither uttered a word, silent as mice sneaking through a keep. Even worse, her daughter did not even bother to look at the map of Winterfell spread across the large table surrounded by the lords. It was then she realized they had just discovered her son’s plans for the war.

It pained her to see the discord between them. Never had she seen her children quarrel with their siblings, as odd as that may seem to others. Since Jon and Visenya were babes resting in her arms, she never saw them like this. It was even worse, now that they were wed. Lyanna felt like a stranger was driving a dagger into her heart, seeing the schism forming between her children. _They need to resolve this before it is too late._

From her view, atop the ramparts, Lyanna watched her son examine the defenses being prepared on the grounds just outside the North Gate. Thousands of men could be seen digging a trench line around the entire northern front. Jon planned to fill it with oil and force the dead to make their way through it before laying siege to the walls of Winterfell. She felt confidant such plans would strike heavy blows against the Dead, but her son cautioned her the Night King would sacrifice hundreds, if not thousands of his soldiers so the rest could pass. The oil was only a hindrance that would not win them the battle.

Within the trench line, Lyanna’s eyes followed Jon’s inspection of the wooden spikes being constructed by northmen and men from the Vale. She could see Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Barristan Selmy shadowing her son, always looking for a secret enemy who might betray her son as his brother and father were. _As long as Arthur and Ghost are there, he will be safe._

The sounds of footsteps increased as she kept her eye on Jon pointing the Dothraki to the gaps in the spike walls. She hoped their attack from the south would land the final blow to the Army of the Dead. “Sister,” she heard, turning to find Benjen approaching in his Night’s Watch garb. _At least, that is what his clothes look like. Always in black, like Jon._

“Benjen,” she acknowledged, smiling at her younger brother. She still thanked the old gods he was returned to her. _I lost Father and Brandon because of my actions. Then I lost Rhaegar and Aegon. Then I lost Ned. I cannot lose another man in our family._

“You worry for him. You shouldn’t. Jon is a good lad and a good King from what I have seen. He will make it through this,” Benjen tried to comfort her as he took the place beside her, resting his arm on the snow-covered wall.

“You told me how dangerous the Night King and the White Walkers are. Do not try to comfort me with false hope,” she responded, afraid for her son, even if she believed in him.

“I am not lying. I believe in him. Many will die in this war. Thousands will pay for it with their lives. But I also have hope. I had none beyond the Wall. I never thought I would see Castle Black again, let alone Winterfell or my dear sister. Then I found the Three-Eyed Raven and then Bran found us and now I am here. Jon will defeat them,” Benjen said with such confidence, she questioned what he knew that she didn’t. _He never talked this way before. Whenever he talked of war, it was always with a grim look and a cold tone._

“Watch over him, for me. Arthur and Barristan will give their lives to protect him. I trust them, but you are his uncle. He needs family fighting alongside him,” she asked, knowing Benjen would oblige.

“He has far better swords protecting him than me,” he countered, diminishing his own capabilities. Lyanna knew better. She saw her brother train with Ned and Brandon in the training yard, learning to wield a sword when he was just a small boy. _You are an excellent swordsman you fool. You could have been Kingsguard to Rhaegar if you wished._

“Benjen, please, do this for me,” she pleaded, with a subtle hint of rage in her eyes should he say no.

“Aye, I’ll watch over Jon, but if the Lord Commander orders me elsewhere, I must follow his orders. Jon is a King, but I am still a sworn brother of the Night’s Watch. I spoke the vows and will do my duty,” he warned her.

“The Night’s Watch… Is there anything left of it? Bran may be wrong. They may all be dead,” Lyanna said. _Will there be a Night’s Watch after this? All of us will either be dead or the White Walkers defeated. What purpose would they have? The wildlings have bent the knee._

“What is left of Castle Black is riding south. There are still men at Eastwatch and the Shadow Tower,” Benjen reminded her. Somehow, she had forgotten about the other two castles. _They do not matter. Winterfell will be a ruin or the Night King defeated before their small numbers arrive._

“Have you thought of what comes after?” she asked. Lyanna waited for an answer, but received none. Benjen just stared out at the preparations be conducted below. “If we win, there will be no need for a Night’s Watch. What will you do then?”

“I don’t know,” Benjen responded, looking truly lost at the idea of not being tied to his sacred vows. The Watch had become his life. Lyanna knew that, but she now found herself praying he could find something more. _Let him find a Lady, a good woman who will love him and care for him. He deserves it, more than most._ “What will you do after this?”

“Return to King’s Landing, watch my grandchildren grow, and help my children rule,” Lyanna said, painting a picture in her mind of what their life would finally look like if they made it through winter. It was a beautiful picture. She tried to imagine each and every prince and princess running through the Red Keep. Lyanna wished to see Rhaegar learn to rule, Jaehaerys spar in the training yard, and Aeryn ride a dragon for the first time. She wanted to be there when Nymeria danced through the Great Hall, to see Lyarra go off on a hunt with her brothers, and watch Rhaenys find love. _We have to survive. Those children deserve it. They deserve the world and more._

“Will you find another?” Benjen hinted at another marriage. _He did know what I was suggesting._

“No, I don’t think so. Rhaegar was the only man I will ever love,” she admitted, content with what she still had. _I still have Elia and she has me. I do not need more than that._

“I never said it before, but I am sorry. He was a good man and a good King. He did not deserve it. Neither did our brother,” Benjen added, dampening her already shaken spirit. “And Aegon. I know he was like a son to you.”

“He was my son. I loved him like I do Jon. I wish I could go back and kill Viserys myself,” she confessed, finding herself getting angered by the mere mention of her now dead good-brother who betrayed them all. Lyanna stopped herself from saying anymore. Viserys was not worth it. Just the thought of his name ringing in her head made her blood burn like the dragons in her family. _I never liked him. I never trusted him. All I ever saw was Aerys. I should have seen it._

“I know,” Benjen said after pulling her into his embrace. Lyanna could not remember the last time he tried to comfort her like this. It had been years since she let the deaths of Rhaegar and Aegon get to her like this. Part of her felt ashamed for acting like a vulnerable lady, succumbing to her regret and depression at the loss of a husband and a son. People thought of her as Queen Lyanna Stark, the Shewolf and fierce northern Lady who captured the Last Dragon’s heart at Harrenhal. Now, she felt like a weak girl, protected by her little brother.

After holding her close for a long time, Lyanna finally willed herself to back away and escape his grasp. She did not cry as she promised herself she would not. It took all of her will. Lyanna still felt the lump in her throat, unable to push aside the memories and hopes she had with Rhaegar. It still saddened her that Aegon’s life was cut short. _He never got to experience what it felt like to be a husband and a father. He never got to say farewell to Rhaenys. Elia lost part of her soul and nothing can replace that. I cannot replace what I lost._

“Is it alright if I leave you with your guards?” Benjen asked, reminding her of the Unsullied who kept their distance while staying close enough to ensure her protection. “Bran wished to speak with me and…,” he continued until she raised her hand.

“Go, I will be fine,” she told him, earning a brief smile from her brother before he turned to find the steps leading to the yard behind them. Lyanna returned her gaze to the defenses below, searching for any sign of Jon. It took her some time to spot him within the thousands of men working beyond the castle walls. Luckily, Ghost’s white fur stood out from the dark clothing of the men who prepared for the coming battle.

Sensing she was not alone on the ramparts, Lyanna looked toward the battlements over the North Gate to her left and found the Lady Melisandre carefully watching Jon. She did not like or trust the red priestess from Asshai. The red woman, as Davos Seaworth would often refer to her, first appeared in the Red Keep a few months before her children returned from their stay in the North. Melisandre offered her allegiance and swore herself to House Targaryen, proclaiming Rhaegar to be the Prince Who Was Promised. _She never cared to explain what that meant._

Melisandre spoke in riddles and twisted her words in a way that left her prophecies open to interpretation. She swore dragons would return to the world and Rhaegar, the prince who survived the tragedy at Summerhall, would see them reborn into this world. Like Elia, Lyanna forced Rhaegar to send her away, knowing he was susceptible to the allure of restoring their House to its former glory and strength.

She thought they would never see her or her like again, except for Thoros, after she left King’s Landing. What surprised her more than anything was hearing she convinced Stannis Baratheon to indulge her prophecies and preaching. She never thought Stannis to be a religious man. Melisandre converted Lady Selyse soon after and Lyanna guessed the red woman seduced Stannis shortly thereafter. She never thought of him the same after that. He was the one Baratheon she liked. He made for poor company, but he was honorable and just. It also helped he was a better man than Robert and far smarter than Renly.

When Melisandre arrived in Meereen with Lord Davos Seaworth after the Battle of Castle Black, Lyanna was more than disappointed Jon allowed her to enter their service. The only thing she thought the priestess had done for them since was warning Jon of Robb’s attempt to save the free folk at Hardhomme. She never could understand how she knew. Lyanna refused to believe in any Lord of Light.

The longer the priestess stared at her son, the more Lyanna felt compelled to confront her. Raising a hand to tell her Unsullied to stay back, Lyanna pulled her furred cloak tighter and proceeded to march toward the priestess. When a smirk formed on Melisandre’s lips, she knew her footsteps were heard.

“Your Grace,” Melisandre said, still fixated on her son speaking with Ser Jorah Mormont and Lord Davos Seaworth.

“Why are you here? You do not preach for your Lord of Light nor attempt to convert the men to your religion,” Lyanna asked, expecting more riddles or simple lies from the priestess. She waited for an answer, receiving none until Melisandre lost sight of her son and turned to face her.

“Our Lord has a purpose for us all. Everything we do, the Lord wills it. You do not trust me my Queen? Thoros was sent to fight for our Lord, Kinvara was sent to convert the nonbelievers by the thousands, and I was sent to serve our King and his Queens. They are the Prince and Princesses Who Were Promised.”

“I remember you said something similar about my husband. You said…,” Lyanna started, only to be stopped by Melisandre.

“I was wrong. Wrong about a great many things. We all have a purpose in the war to come. The wars between this king and that king mean nothing. This is the war for the light, against the coming darkness. Only your son can lead us through the darkness. You doubt me, I can see it on your face. I told your husband the Prince Who Was Promised would bring dragons into the world. Was I wrong? I see dragons in the sky and the worshippers of our Lord are free from their shackles. The nonbelievers have been purified by the thousands and more will follow. After all you have seen Queen Lyanna, you still do not believe?” Melisandre spoke, reminding her of the vague prophecies she espoused, hoping for any to come true.

“My son did not purify nonbelievers. He brought justice to slavers and men who sent assassins after children,” Lyanna argued, knowing her children thought Melisandre’s beliefs to be nonsense.

“All who do not follow our King are nonbelievers. He is our Lord’s champion. The night is dark and full of terrors. Your son will see the Long Night. He will see death. Sacrifices will be made. Our Lord will end this darkness. And only then will you understand why I am here.” _Again, she speaks in riddles and vague prophecies. Her tongue cannot help it._

“My son will not force your God upon the people of the Realm,” Lyanna said, staring down her potential enemy. Nothing had changed. Something darker and mysterious laid under the Melisandre’s words.

“Nor shall the Lord of Light ask it of him,” Melisandre said before brushing past her in the red robes she never ceased to wear. Lyanna watched Melisandre leave before turning back to the fields around Winterfell. She could see the Dothraki riding beyond the defenses, across the surrounding hills.

“Queen Lyanna,” she heard Melisandre call her name, turning back with surprise to see the red priestess was not gone. “When our Lord sees his will done and I have seen to my purpose, do not thank me. You will plead for me to stay. Don’t.”

Lyanna couldn’t stop the smirk from spreading across her lips as the Unsullied parted to allow the red priestess to descend the stairs along the wall. _She truly is mad. I will never trust her. She is a poor priestess who seeks the favor of those more powerful than herself. She can’t be trusted._

 

 

**Rhaenys Targaryen**

It had been twenty days since they had arrived at Winterfell and they would be leaving on the morrow. Bran Stark warned them the Night King and his army would reach Winterfell in ten days’ time. Jon wanted herself and the children gone, well in into the Barrowlands along the Kingsroad by then. It took several days for Rhaenys to reconcile with his decision. She wanted to scream and fight him after ruining the morning after their wedding. The small taste of hatred she held for Jon was like poison. She never wanted that feeling again. She loved him and she knew he loved her.

Logic drove Jon to sending the dragons south and love made him force her to ride south. It took her days to come to terms with it and when she did, she cherished every moment they had. Every night and every morning, he made love to her with all he had to give. Rhaenys could not explain it, but she felt it. Jon looked at her differently, with more love and affection than before. She did not think it possible, but she found it to be true. _He fears we will lose. He does not say it, but he does._

“Mother! Look! Look!” Aegon yelled as he rode his pony in circles around the empty yard. It was only in the past two days the yard began to clear and the children could play somewhere besides the godswood. She beamed with pride, watching her eldest ride like a little Dothraki warrior on his black pony. Aegon demanded to ride a black destrier like his father, but Rhaenys managed to talk him down from such hopes and he settled with the pony.

“I see! Do not ride too fast!” Rhaenys warned her son, trusting the Dothraki boy nearby would not let the pony get out of her son’s control. As she watched her son ride, she felt Nymeria leaning into her side. Presuming her little princess was getting cold, she pulled her daughter close, throwing her cloak protectively over Nymeria. Her princess started to giggle as she slid her little hands over her growing stomach. Her eldest could not stop talking about the new brother or sister she would get. Before she set foot in the yard, Nymeria accompanied her to the nursery when she spent several hours with her babes. _She will be a good sister. She already wants to protect them all._

“He is a good rider,” Arianne observed, seated next to her after putting her daughter, Nymella, to sleep.

“They will be racing through the streets of King’s Landing soon enough,” Allyria added, surely thinking of all the times they had done so. _I pray she is right. I would give anything to see that._

“Aunt Allyria, will you live with us? We miss you,” Nymeria spoke up, sticking her head out of the cloak keeping her warm. Rhaenys thought her daughter’s sweet innocence was what she needed during these times.

“I am afraid I can’t, my Princess. I have to live with my husband in Highgarden,” Allyria said, looking to Rhaenys for help after Nymeria looked to be crushed.

“Your aunt will visit as often as possible, Nymeria. One day, we will visit her in Highgarden,” Rhaenys told her daughter, running her hand across Nymeria’s cold cheek. Instinctually, Rhaenys pulled her daughter onto her lap and held her close, hoping to warm her little dragon.

“Where is that?” Nymeria asked, still too young to remember the map of Westeros.

“Highgarden? It is in the Reach, far away from here. It is closer to King’s Landing. We will go there and you can see its gardens and fountains,” she said, knowing her daughter appreciated such things far more than her sisters, Arya and Dany.

“Like Pentos?” Nymeria questioned. Rhaenys froze, worrying her daughter still remembered the faceless men’s attempt on their lives. When she looked down to see her daughter’s face, relief washed over her when Nymeria smiled with the joy of a sweet child.

“Yes, like Pentos,” she confirmed, wishing her daughter could remember the beautiful gardens, fountains, and pools of Lys. Rhaenys would certainly never forget. There were things about every city they conquered in Essos, but Lys was her favorite. She wished to return their one day. She loved everything about it. The people spoke Valyrian, the waters were clearer than any she had ever seen, their manse was perfect, and the climate was relaxing. Even the storms on the Summer Sea were enjoyable in Lys. Beautiful night skies illuminated by lightning storms captured her attention and she could never go to sleep as long as they raged.

Rhaenys knew they could not visit Lys often. She guessed she would only see the city again once or twice in her life. Their Realm was vast and if they did not all die in this war, most of their time would be spent in Westeros. She guessed a visit to Lys and their other cities in Essos would occur a long time from now, after winter and after the Seven Kingdoms had healed from years of war.

Her thoughts we torn from Essos as a horn blast sounded from the North Gate. She waited for another two to follow, assuming the worst and that they had been wrong. None came. Rhaenys was already ignoring the horn, assuming it had to do with their army’s preparations for battle.

Moments later, she saw Jon marching out of the Great Keep with Tormund Giantsbane, Samwell Tarly, Arthur Dayne, and Barristan Selmy. She could see the concern on his face as he passed without looking in her direction or paying their son any mind. _This cannot be good. What has happened?_

“Nymeria, stay with your aunts and do as they say, understand?” Rhaenys commanded, waiting for her daughter to nod to confirm she understood. When Nymeria complied, Rhaenys thanked Allyria and Arianne before making her way across the yard with Ser Simon Sunglass following close behind as her guard for the day. Just minutes before, the yard was empty and silent. Now, she found men running to and from the North Gate. They were not panicked, but they certainly held looks of concern and did not take their time.

After the fairly long walk from the Great Keep to the yard inside the North Gate, Rhaenys managed to catch up with Jon. She saw him embracing what looked to be a sworn brother of the Night’s Watch, judging by his entirely black attire. The man and those who rode through the gate with him looked worn and defeated. _They are from Castle Black._

As she closed the distance, she guessed this man was Edd Tollett. She remembered Jon speaking of him. All she knew was he fought beside Jon at Castle Black and barely made it out alive at Hardhomme after the dead breached the wooden walls protecting the free folk stubborn enough not to bend the knee and seek protection behind the Wall.

“We thought you were dead,” Jon said after letting go of the man.

“Not yet,” the brother of the Night’s Watch responded.

“How long do we have?” Jon asked. _If Bran was right, ten days._

“Before the sun rises on the morrow,” spoke a more imposing figure, emerging from the men dismounting their horses. Rhaenys could sense something was different about the man. He dressed like the free folk but did not sound like them. He sounded like a man born south of the Wall.

“You are sure?” Jon questioned, believing in Bran. When the man nodded is head, she saw the worry on Jon’s face before he turned to her, telling her to prepare their things immediately without actually saying it. She did not need him to speak to understand what he was intending. “How many of your people made it?”

“I lost a two hundred men at Castle Black. There are only fifty sworn brothers left. I led one hundred of my men down here. The others are either marching with the Night King and stuck in the other castles,” Mance Rayder responded. Rhaenys put the pieces together once he spoke of the free folk as his. She wondered if the others who manned the long-abandoned castles were dead. _It doesn’t matter. They are too few in number to make a difference either way._

 

“Aegon, grab your things and stand next to your sister. We are leaving,” Rhaenys ordered her eldest as she prepared Valarr for their ride south. She could see Aegon was not making any effort to pick up his wooden sword or his small travelling cloak. _I do not need this right now._

“I don’t want to. Rhaegar is staying,” Aegon protested. Rhaenys looked over at Rhaegar and Arya, who had mischievous looks on their faces.

“Your brother is leaving with the rest of us,” Daenerys said, coming up behind Aegon with a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Now do as we say. This is not the time to argue.”

“Where is father? Where is he?” Aegon asked as Rhaenys moved to his bed to pick up his wooden sword and hand it to him.

“He is staying here. We will see him soon, I promise,” she lied, not knowing when they would see him again. Rhaenys did not want to think about it. The last thing she needed to do was breakdown and worry in front of the children. She wore a brave face and acted as if nothing was wrong, even if she could tell they knew otherwise. The children were young, but they could see what was going on in Winterfell.

The thick stone walls of the Great Keep did little to dull the noise of soldiers marching and preparing the battlements for the war. Nightfall was still six hours away, but Jon wanted them gone as soon as possible. All the women, children, and old men had already fled south days before. Rhaenys’ family were the only ones left besides House Stark, Tyrell, and Martell.

“I’m not leaving!” Aegon yelled, refusing to yield to their will. Rhaenys felt her frustration reach a tipping point and she was ready to carry her eldest son out of the room. When she turned around, she found Jon walking through the doorway.

“Aegon, look at me,” Jon demanded, twisting their son around to face him. She watched as Jon got on one knee to reprimand their son while she wrapped Daenys in a winter cloak with a fur hood covering her silver locks. “Do as your mother says.”

“But I want to stay here and fight the monsters with you. Rhaegar is staying. I want to be brave,” Aegon said, breaking down in tears. Rhaenys felt her anger turn to sadness as she watched Jon wrap their son in his arms. She wished she could understand what had gotten into Aegon. _Does he believe we do not think him brave? Or does he not want to leave Jon?_

“You are brave, my son. You are brave,” Jon said, placing a comforting hand on Aegon’s back while holding the back of his head with the other, trying to calm their son. Aegon’s tears were suddenly turning into her tears. Rhaenys did not want this to be their final moments. It was all becoming more real with the impending attack on Winterfell.

“Listen to me, Aegon. I need you to be brave and protect your mothers and sisters while I am here. You and your brothers must protect them, understand?” Jon said after Aegon calmed down and Jon settled him on the floor. Rhaenys was glad to see Aegon nod his head, despite his tear-stricken face. “Good, now go join your sister Nymeria in the hallway and stay by her side.”

“There you are, Daenys. Now follow your brothers and sisters. Stick together and do not leave their side,” she told her little daughter. Rhaenys felt a sense of relief when she looked into the princess’ violet eyes. She could see Daenys did not truly understand what was going on. Daenys looked confused, but did not question her or show any signs of worry.

“Yes, mother,” Daenys mumbled before scurrying off behind her sisters Dany and Sansa.

“Is everything set?” Jon asked.

“Vithi and the handmaidens are taking the babes to the wheelhouse as we speak. Brienne and Garlan are with them,” Rhaenys said, having spent the previous half hour making sure their youngest children were fed and ready for travelling on the Kingsroad. Lyanna, her mother, and grandmother stepped in to assist her with them. She trusted them with the babes when it came to their travels.

“Brienne and Garlan are staying,” Rhaenys heard her sister say from across the room.

“They are going with you. If I had my way, Arthur would be riding with you as well,” Jon replied.

“No, they are not. The King needs his Kingsguard. We already have dragons and direwolves and three thousand men. Brienne and Garlan are staying,” Visenya stated, moving toward Jon as she unfastened the belt holding Dark Sister at her hip. “And you will have Dark Sister with you.”

“Keep it,” Jon refused, shoving the sword back to their sister. “If we fail, you will need it. If I have all the Kingsguard with me, you will need the Valyrian steel. You are better with the sword than the men protecting you. Keep it.”

“Jon…,” Visenya tried to protest until Jon placed his fingers gently upon her lips.

“Visenya, please, for this once, do as I say. I am giving in to keeping Garlan and Brienne at my side. Do this, for me,” Jon begged. Rhaenys thought Visenya might argue more, but saw her sister nod in acceptance. “Thank you,” Jon let out before hugging Visenya as hard as he could from what Rhaenys could tell.

“Your Grace! They are…,” Rhaenys turned to find Alyn Blackwood entering the open doorway with two of their household guard behind him. She saw the squire halt, seeing Visenya in Jon’s arms. It was obvious the boy was nervous he was interrupting a moment between his King and Queen.

“What is it, Alyn?” Jon asked after a silent pause, tearing his eyes from Visenya’s to the waiting squire.

“The men are ready and all of the belongings are on the wheelhouses,” Alyn answered. She looked to see her husband’s reaction and she could see it pained him that this could be it. Jon’s squire seemed to understand he was no longer needed and removed himself from the room to give them their privacy.

She waited for him to say something. Rhaenys thought he looked lost. No words were coming from his mouth, only worry in his eyes and something else. This was their last moments alone before the battle and Rhaenys wanted to tell him how much she loved him. She wanted to thank him for everything. She couldn’t find the words when she opened her mouth, only to remain silent.

“It’s time,” was all he said, motioning to the door. Rhaenys immediately regretted not saying anything and silently followed Jon and Visenya out of the chambers at Daenerys’ side.

 

_This isn’t right. This doesn’t feel right._ Rhaenys hated every moment of their farewell as she stood next to the wheelhouse that would carry her out of the South Gate and onto the Kingsroad toward Castle Cerwyn. She had been dreading this moment since the morning after her wedding and it felt worse than she had even imagined.

She could see Robb Stark kissing Margaery and saying some words to his little son. Another wheelhouse back, Ashara Dayne assisted Allyria, who held her son in her arms. Right behind her went Sansa Arryn and her sister Arya Stark. Rhaenys could tell the girl was not pleased to be riding south with them. Rhaenys had overheard an argument between Arya, her brother, and Jon three nights before. Jon eventually resorted to using his kingly authority and ordered her to leave Winterfell. As willful as Arya was, she respected Jon’s rule more than anything else and did as she was told.

After Arya climbed into the wheelhouse, Rhaenys spotted Arianne clutching Nymella and following the Stark girl. She watched Edric Dayne give her cousin a lasting kiss before letting her go. The pain on his face hurt. _It will come._

With most of the wheelhouses full, Rhaenys finally looked to Jon who was speaking with Lyanna and her mother. She guessed he had already said his farewells to her grandmother since Rhaenys saw her climb inside the wheelhouse. Jon held their mothers for nearly a minute. Neither of them wanted to let him go until he forced his own escape from their arms.

The hardest part came next. She had to endure him kissing each of their babes farewell before the wetnurses and maids carried them into the warmth of the wheelhouses. After the babes came the eldest of their children. None of them were happy to leave. Her daughters pleaded for him to go with them while her sons pleaded to stay and fight. It was then, a tear slipped down her cheek as a few of the children began to cry. She wished they had done a better job of shielding them from the truth. _We should have left them in King’s Landing, with our Kingsguard and direwolves._

Rhaegar and Arya were the last of the children Jon said farewell to. Rhaenys carefully watched as he knelt down and pulled both of them in for a hug. They were too far away to hear, but she saw him whisper something into their ears. Whatever it was, it seemed to have the intended effect. Both of the children smiled through their tear-stained cheeks and hugged him tighter. _Do not leave me Jon. Do not make Rhaegar a King. I still need you. We need you._

Jon managed to finally escape the prince and princess’s grasp, helping them climb inside with their younger siblings. He saw to it they were settled and ready for the journey on the Kingsroad. When he turned to face her, Rhaenys knew this was it. They were leaving and Jon would have to fight this war alone, without dragons. _Without us. This doesn’t feel right._

“My Queens, I don’t know what to say,” Jon said as he stood before them. Rhaenys stared into his grey eyes, telling herself they would win. She refused to believe the worst. _He is the greatest swordsmen in the world. He commands the largest army Westeros has ever seen. We outnumber the Night King and his army._

“Return to us. This is not farewell,” Visenya braved to say the first words. Jon’s pained smile hurt. She could see he did not entirely believe it. Part of her hoped it was his brooding nature and his knack for underestimating himself. The odds were always in their favor, but it never stopped him from stressing the strengths of their enemies and minimizing their own. _This feels different._

“No, it isn’t. I will return, I swear it,” he replied before pulling Visenya by the small of her back flush against him. Rhaenys felt another tear as she watched her sister and her brother share one another’s love before parting. She did not look forward to her last kiss. _It won’t be. He swore it. Jon is the most honorable man this world has known. He has never lied to us. Never._

Rhaenys thought he would move to Daenerys next since she stood between herself and Visenya. Instead, Jon surprised her and seized her lips. Her tongue fought his for supremacy as she did her best to remember everything they shared. Every moment and every laugh. Every kiss and every time they made love raced through her mind as she fought to keep him. She did not want to let him go, but it was not her choice. Jon made it and pulled himself back, wiping the tears from her cheek.

Lastly, he leaned down to kiss Daenerys. As both of them enveloped the other, Rhaenys thought it stood in stark contrast to the first time she saw them kiss in the Red Keep when both thought no one was looking. Now, all she saw was sadness and fear in both of them. Rhaenys held the same fear of losing him when he kissed her.

When Jon broke his kiss from Daenerys, he rested his brow against hers. As he did so, she felt his arm around her hip, pulling her in. Rhaenys leaned into Jon with Visenya doing the same on his other side. She couldn’t hold it in any longer and began to cry. Rhaenys lasted this long for her children’s sake. She wanted to be brave for them like they wanted to be brave for her. _Please, do not let them see._

“I love you,” Jon said in a pained voice as she pulled on his cloak, not wanting to leave. They had fought this long. _How many enemies have we defeated? How many times have we flown into battle together? This cannot be it._ “Rhaenys, Visenya, Daenerys, I love you. More than anything in this world, I love you. You are my Queens, now and always. Now go.”

Jon tried to back away, but Rhaenys pulled him in for one final kiss. She refused to let him go until she reminded herself, she had to. _Dany and Senya must have him before we leave. I wish I could have more time, but I can’t._

Willing herself away, Rhaenys turned on her heels and climbed into the waiting wheelhouse. Seeing Aegon and Nymeria inside with their brothers and sisters, she wiped away her tears as best she could. Rhaenys knew she was failing to contain her light sobs as she lifted her eldest and placed them on her lap. The only thing she could to do to take away the pain was hold them close while Visenya and Daenerys followed, sitting in the empty spaces available to them.

Aegon and Nymeria nuzzled their heads into her neck as the wheelhouse lurched forward, taking them through the South Gate, onto the Kingsroad, and away from Winterfell. Rhaenys knew then there was no going back. Jon would fight this war alone, without her and their dragons.

“Mother can you sing us a song?” Nymeria asked with her warm breath hitting her neck. Rhaenys did not feel like singing. She did not feel cheerful and she preferred the songs that made people laugh and smile at feasts. “Please.”

Rhaenys wanted to pretend she did not hear her daughter, but knew she needed to be her mother. Her mind searched and searched, but nothing came to her. She was at a loss. As she opened her mouth, she prayed to come up with her own song, but found herself singing the only song she could remember in that moment. “ _High in the halls of the kings who are gone, Jenny would dance with her ghosts. The ones she had lost and the ones she had found and the ones who had loved her the most. The ones who’d been gone for so very long…”_

_“…And the ones who had loved her the most.”_ As soon as she finished Jenny’s Song, Rhaenys regretted her choice. It only made things worse. Her song brought back her tears as they passed the men marching in the opposite direction through Winter Town. With the end of the song, Rhaenys closed her eyes as her tears trickled down and her children clung to her warmth. She needed sleep to wipe away the pain, but she feared she would not find any. _I am lost._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The weddings were a bit repetitive, but it did not seem right to skip over either. Melisandre's intereaction w/ Lyanna is important. Not entirely sure I did the best w/ Rhaenys' farewell. Next chapter is the big battle and will not come as quickly as this one. I have the major plot points of the next chapter, but specific scenes and actions will come as I write. Cannot say when the next chapter will come. I hope two weeks but maybe not. Again, leave any questions or comments below.
> 
> And episode six was as bad as I expected. I believe that GRRM will handle his major plot points better than D&D, but the one thing I will not accept as something I could enjoy reading is Bran being King. Terrible ending. If that happens in the books, he should be painted as the ultimate villain. The show seemed confused on how to portray him. It seemed they wanted us to believe Bran to be good, but everything indicates he planned it all and is worse than any of the other characters in show or book.


	41. Dragons & the Night

**Jon Targaryen**

_It actually looks like him._ Jon focused on the statue of his uncle, Ned Stark, questioning what he would do this night. He asked himself a thousand times what his father and brother would do differently. Both his father and uncle never lost a battle, without dragons. Jon had fought and won without dragons, but he carried a sense of doubt that those battles really mattered. His greatest victories were won with fire and blood.

As the flamelight from the brazier flickered over the statue of Lord Eddard Stark, Jon looked down the long line of statues for the Lords of Winterfell. The closest statue to his uncle’s was the one built for his grandfather, Lord Rickard. Between his grandfather and uncle rested his uncle, Brandon Stark. His mother still carried their memory, occasionally telling him stories of her childhood. _How different would things be if my father never saw my mother? Would Father and Egg still be here?_

Jon almost wished things had gone differently at the Tourney at Harrenhal, but then he remembered his mother and sister. If his mother did not meet his father, she would have been forced to wed Robert Baratheon and Visenya would not have been born. As he contemplated his family’s past, he finally realized it was pointless. He could not change it as he remembered Daenerys’ words. _The past is the past. You cannot change it and I cannot change it. We can only forge our future together._

As he looked down the long line of braziers lighting the dark crypts that lay beneath Winterfell, Jon remembered his family needed a new place for their dead to rest. The Great Sept of Baelor was left a ruin before he retook King’s Landing and House Targaryen now had nowhere to place his father and brother’s ashes. _I will have a crypt built on Dragonstone, for our family, not the Realm._

“Am I doing the right thing?” he asked Arthur, relying on his judgement as he has his entire life. His loyal sword has not only protected him his entire life, but guided him toward choosing what is right. Now, more than ever, Jon found himself questioning his decisions. It was the same feeling of doubt he carried in Essos as Robb fought his war.

“My King?” Ser Arthur Dayne replied behind him, standing guard.

“Am I doing the right thing, sending the dragons away?” Jon asked. In his heart, he knew it was right, but his Queens disagreed. Any other time, Jon would not hold to a decision if Daenerys, Rhaenys, and Visenya stood together against him. _They are far better than me. Perhaps I am wrong._

“You are doing what you know is right. It is a King’s duty to protect the realms of men. Thousands will die tonight. You know this and you did so anyway. You have seen the Army of the Dead. I trust you more than any and if what you say is true, this war must be fought and won by men, not dragons,” Ser Arthur responding, stepping next to him with the same look he always gave when teaching him the sword.

“I can’t help but think Father or Aegon would know the better way,” Jon replied.

“No, they wouldn’t. Your father was a great King and my friend. Your brother would have made for a great King. You are a great King. If there was another way, you would see it. It has been my life’s honor to serve your father and House Targaryen. It has been my honor to serve you. A Kingsguard could not ask for a better King. You will see your Queens and children again. I swear it. This will not be our end,” Arthur said, somehow knowing what he truly feared was never seeing his family again. Jon wanted to protect the Realm and save the North. He did not want his army slaughtered and the men who fought for him butchered, or even worse, raised to serve the Night King. The only real thing he truly cared about was his blood.

Jon wanted to see Daenerys’ smile again, listen to Rhaenys’ singing, and spar with Visenya. He did not want to die without hearing his mother’s laugh, or Elia’s subtle humor, or go without seeing his grandmother spoil his children. More than anything, he wanted to see his sons become the men they were destined to be and his daughters the women that would make House Targaryen proud. Jon feared losing the chance to see them find their own loves and build families of their own.

“I never say it, but it has been my honor to learn and train at your side for nearly all of my life. I wouldn’t be half the swordsman or man that I am today without you,” Jon said, hoping Arthur believed him. _I mean every word of it._ Seeing the Sword of the Morning shrug off his thanks, Jon continued, “I speak truly. A prince could not ask for a better teacher and protector. And a king could not ask for a better Kingsguard, advisor, and friend.”

“Jon…I…,” Arthur began, searching for the right words.

“There is no need Arthur. Neither of us are good with words,” Jon stopped him, not wishing for thanks or praise from the knight he had looked up to his entire life. Jon could still remember pretending to be Ser Arthur Dayne as a young boy when fighting with Aegon. It was always Ser Arthur or Aemon the Dragonknight.

Jon sensed Arthur was going to speak anyways until they both heard the sound of boots hitting the stones of the crypt floor and the clanking of armor approaching. Looking to his right, away from Ned Stark’s statue, Jon could see his squire and most of the Kingsguard emerging from the shadows.

“Ser Barristan,” Jon said, waiting to hear from the Lord Commander on the preparations above.

“The men should be ready within the hour. The walls are manned, trebuchets are readied, dragonglass has been distributed, and the necessary provisions are in place,” Barristan Selmy apprised him of the defenses being readied for the coming battle.

“Where is Ser Brienne and Ser Garlan?” he asked, seeing the two newest members of the Kingsguard not standing amongst them. Jon trusted both of them, but still needed time to know their true abilities. Ser Simon Sunglass was new to the Kingsguard, but not to serving House Targaryen. The knight had served Jon well in Essos and Jon trusted him with the lives of his family.

“Seeing to it none of the lords deviate from your plans, your Grace,” Ser Barristan answered. _If any of them do, I’ll have their heads if we live through this._

“Good,” Jon replied, looking at each of his Kingsguard, recalling all they had been through since he inherited his father’s crown. Each of the men before him had fought and bled for House Targaryen. Each of them had risked their lives to protect his family and would do so again. “I want to thank each of you before this battle. Each of you have given your lives to serve and protect my House. Ser Barristan, you saved my children’s lives in Meereen. Ser Oswell, you saved my sisters and mothers in King’s Landing. Ser Jonothor, you protected my grandmother and kept Dragonstone while I was in Essos. Ser Simon, you protected my family in Meereen and Pentos. Ser Arthur, you have saved my life more times than I can count. A King has not had a better Kingsguard. I will never forget it and my children will never forget it. If I should fall and the battle is lost, I expect you to find your way south. Lead as many men as you can and find my Queens. Serve them and do as they say. They are my heirs and they will choose when Rhaegar wears the crown.”

“My King, it has been our honor to serve you and your House. I was not there to protect your father and brother and that will be the greatest regret of my life. I swear it, we will give our lives to protect our King and House Targaryen,” Ser Barristan swore in his Kingsguard armor that was not entirely suitable for winter. Jon wanted to stop the Lord Commander, but decided not to for he held too much respect for Barristan the Bold.

 

“I never got the chance to thank you for the sword,” Robb Stark said as he sheathed the Valyrian steel sword in its scabbard. Visenya had gifted the sword to their cousin at Jon’s suggestion. They had collected enough Valyrian steel swords in Essos and he wanted Robb to carry a sword that could fight off the White Walkers.

“And you don’t have to. When the war is done, I shall have Ice reforged. I swear it,” Jon affirmed, knowing Brienne of Tarth and Jaime Lannister would part with their swords on his orders. _I will have to find a smith in Qohor or Volantis if one does not have the skill in King’s Landing._

“I thank you anyways,” Robb said as his squire fastened the last of his armor on his shoulder. Jon never felt right occupying the King’s Chambers on Dragonstone or in the Red Keep. Seeing the Lord’s Chambers of Winterfell as Robb’s felt just as odd. These were his uncle’s quarters. Jon was still accustomed to the relatively modest quarters he and the Stark children held all those years ago. “That will be all Dorren. Give me a moment with the King.”

“Yes, my Lord. Your Grace,” the boy said, bowing before excusing himself from the dimly lit chambers. The warmth of the hearth was gone and any signs of family had disappeared with Margaery and their children. Jon felt this way about the entirety of Winterfell. All that remained were soldiers and men pretending to be soldiers. There was no joy and happiness left to be found in the Great Keep, only drunk men, scared men, ignorant men, and the rare few who did not care to die.

“New squire?” Jon asked as he watched the boy leave, brushing past Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Oswell Whent into the corridor.

“Aye. Dorren Flint, second son of Lady Lyessa,” Robb confirmed. After seeing so many squires as a boy raised in King’s Landing and travelling across the Seven Kingdoms, Jon could tell Dorren Flint was not a seasoned squire. “He’ll be fine. He reminds me of my last squire, Ser Warrick Manderly. Its why I chose him.”

“Will Ser Warrick be fighting with the Stark men or House Manderly?” Jon asked, remembering knighting the boy from White Harbor. Jon did not ask anything about Robb’s squire before knighting him in the Throne Room of the Red Keep. If Robb wanted Warrick Manderly knighted, he trusted his cousin had good reason to make such a request.

“He will lead the men on the western side of the North Gate battlements,” Robb answered, gathering his gloves off the small table next to him.

“I don’t like leaving Bran in the godswood,” Jon said as they made their way out of the solar and through the doorway to the waiting Kingsguard. He knew the weakest defenses lay on the walls of the godswood. _If the Night King is after Bran as Uncle Benjen said, he will concentrate his attack there._

“He says it’s the only way. Uncle Benjen will be there to protect him,” Robb added. _And Theon and the Ironborn. I do not trust them. Why does Bran?_ Jon also wondered what role Jojen and Meera Reed would play in the battle. Bran always kept them close. He did not know if Howland Reed’s children were advisors, protectors, or both. “I do not like it, but I trust him.”

Jon did not know what to trust. He was just as wary of Bran’s visions as Melisandre’s prophecies. Like the red priestess, his cousin spoke vaguely and sometimes in riddles. Worse than Melisandre, Bran’s words were few. He was correct in his warning of Tyrion Lannister’s betrayal, but he was wrong about the time it would take for the Army of the Dead to reach Winterfell. _How did he not see them if he can see everything else?_

As they descended the stairs of the Great Keep to find their way to the North Gate, Jon went over the battle plans with Robb one final time to consult with his cousin. He trusted Robb more than anyone with Winterfell’s defense. More than himself, Robb knew the castle’s strengths and weaknesses, as well as the surrounding lands. Both expressed a fear of the Dead breaking apart into multiple armies, bypassing Winterfell to attack the lands to the south.

Before reaching the main yard outside the keep, Jon peered inside the Great Hall to find a few hundred men gathered. Most of the soldiers inside were northmen by the look of their armor. Surrounding the blazing hearth at the dais sat a collection of free folk, northmen, and men from the Stormlands. He could see Lord Davos Seaworth sitting near the fire with Tormund telling some tale next to Gendry Baratheon and Podrick Payne.

Jon thought the group an odd collection of men, but realized every man fighting this night would be brothers. They were all men of the Night’s Watch in this war, whether they said the sacred vows or not. Every man in Winterfell was the shield that guards the realms of men. While he liked Tormund and the men around the hearth, Jon decided to keep walking past the Great Hall. He never got piss drunk before a battle and did not celebrate before its arrival.

Leaving the Great Hall behind, Jon found the cold northern air relaxing as he stepped into the courtyard outside the Great Keep. A company of Unsullied were marching toward the North Gate in perfect formation, unaffected by the foreign weather. Jon contemplated visiting Bran and his Uncle Benjen in the godswood, but decided against it. _If there was more to tell, he would tell it._

Falling behind the marching company of Unsullied, Jon led Robb and the Kingsguard to the North Gate. Brienne of Tarth and Garlan Tyrell were already waiting for them near the stairs climbing the north wall to the right of the gate. Both knights parted the path so Jon could climb the stairs. He wanted to be on the ramparts before the battle so he could see how the Night King’s army stood and where he planned to attack.

Once they reached the top of the northern wall, Jon looked to either side. To his right, he saw Beric Dondarrion sitting against the wall between the Hound and Thoros of Myr as they drank from their wineskins. _Two worshippers of the Lord of Light and the man who hates fire. How do they not want to kill each other?_

Knowing if he stood near them, Beric would never shut up, Jon turned to his left to find his friend, Samwell Tarly, standing near the battlements of the North Gate with Edd Tollett approaching from further down the ramparts. Jon was glad to find two people he could stand to be around if these were to be his final hours. Sam was his closest friend from childhood and part of him wished his friend had travelled to the Citadel to become a maester. Jon liked Edd’s company because he was not too cheerful and a straightforward ranger who did not act differently around Jon because he was the King.

“And now our watch begins,” Edd said as Jon stood against the wall between Sam and Robb. It was more than Edd’s words that reminded him of the Wall and Castle Black. Looking out into the darkness of the lands surrounding Winterfell gave Jon the same feeling he had when he looked out onto the Haunted Forest. The only difference now was he knew the enemy they faced and what he was capable of.

His eyes scanned the pitch-black horizon, looking for any signs of their northern or Dothraki scouts riding back to Winterfell to warn them of the approaching army. All he saw was darkness. The night sky was covered by clouds, preventing the full moon from illuminating the battlefield. The only light Jon could see were the fires keeping the men warm inside and outside the walls of Winterfell.

When Jon took his eyes off the battlefield, he turned to see the worried look on Sam’s face. _He fears he will never see Gilly and little Sam again. I do not blame him._ “Sam, you do not need to be here. You can…,” Jon tried to dissuade his friend from fighting on the front lines.

“Everyone seems to forget I was the first one to kill a White Walker. I’ve killed Thenns,” Sam argued without the feared look on his face. Jon did not know if he misread his friend or his words hardened Sam’s demeanor.

“Thenn,” Edd corrected Sam, earning a small laugh from Robb. Jon remembered the tale from the Battle of Castle Black. He did not see it, but he wish he had. Sam was his good friend, but Jon could admit to himself how absurd it must have looked to see his friend kill a Thenn.

“I’ve saved Gilly several times. I survived the Fist of the First Men. You need me out there,” Sam said with his own sort of confidence.

“Well if that’s what it’s come to, we really are fucked,” Edd replied.

“Well, calling you fucked wouldn’t be strictly accurate,” Sam jested, earning a smirk on Jon’s face. Part of him was happy for Sam. Somehow, his friend had managed to find a woman he loved beyond the Wall and kept her after returning to Castle Black. The other part of him felt sad for Edd, never having a woman to love.

“Samwell Tarly, slayer of White Walkers, lover of ladies. As if we needed anymore signs the world was ending,” Edd added in a defeated tone.

“Think back to where we started. Us, Grenn, Pyp,” Sam said. Jon wondered what that bond felt like. He did not have any brotherhood he belonged to. Sam and Edd had the Night’s Watch. Arthur and Oswell had the Kingsguard. _Aegon was my brother and he is gone. Robb, Sam, and Edric are the closest things to brothers I have left._

“Last man left, burn the rest of us,” Edd replied.

Silence followed as Jon stood with Sam, Edd, and Robb, with the Kingsguard behind them. Sam’s words made him think back to where he had started and where he was now. With every regret, Jon remembered the good that had come into his life.

He had started as a foolish Prince, eager to impress his father, Ser Arthur, and his Uncle Ned. Jon wanted to be the Realm’s greatest swordsman and serve his father and Aegon after him. He dreamed of being the Prince of Summerhall with Daenerys as his love and wife.

Now, Jon found himself as a husband to three of the most beautiful women in the world and father to the best children a man could ask for. It hurt to admit to himself, but he did not think he would give up the road that led him here if it meant giving them up. He did not care for his crown, titles, victories, or lands. He would give them all up to have his father and brother again. _But I do not think I could give up Rhaenys._

The thought stung his heart, knowing if his brother were alive, Rhaenys would not be his and her children would not be his. As the idea continued to linger in his thoughts, he imagined what Rhaenys would tell him. _She would call me a fool and tell me she loves me and that the past is the past. It cannot be changed._

 

It had been hours since Jon found his place atop the ramparts near Winterfell’s North Gate and there was still no sign of the dead. He could not see an army approaching in the night and certainly did not hear the sound of one hundred thousand dead men marching. The only signs of movement were the men forming up the ranks outside the walls of Winterfell. A large number of the men were still within the castle, staying warm, getting drunk, or whatever they do to prepare themselves for a battle. Jon knew he was giving away the defensive advantage of Winterfell’s high walls, but he feared a swarm attack on a small part of the wall that would overwhelm its defenders. _We also have too many men._

“There!” Ser Oswell declared. Jon looked to his right to find his Kingsguard pointing to the northwest. Following his pointed finger, Jon saw two specks of light waving back and forth. He knew then that two of their scouts were returning to warn them of the approaching army. Knowing this was it, Jon nodded to Robb.

“Sound the horn! Prepare for battle!” Robb yelled to the horn blowers standing above the North Gate. Seconds later, the horns blasted into the night sky, alerting every man in Winterfell that the Army of the Dead was here.

As he tracked the scouts riding hard for the North Gate, Jon caught sight of more scouts riding south. They all saw the Night King and his army coming. When the first of the riders passed through the opening in the spike wall and trench, one of the scouts looked up to the walls and shouted, “Two miles. They are two miles away!” _They will be here within the hour._

“Edd, Lord Davos has command of the North Gate and the walls. You and your Night’s Watch will aid the Lord Hand with its defense. If you see any weakness in our defenses, send out the reinforcements as you see fit,” Jon ordered the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, trusting him more than most. Edd had fought the dead and knew how to defend a wall. _Winterfell isn’t the Wall, but it will do._ Accepting his orders, Edd marched off and Jon turned to Robb. “Try not to get yourself killed out there.”

“Aye. I could say the same for you,” Robb replied, causing Jon to smirk before turning to his Kingsguard. Each of them were prepared for battle with their helms on and their infamous white cloaks gone. Motioning toward the stairs with his head, Jon followed Robb’s footsteps, descending the stone stairs behind Winterfell’s walls. Men were rushing through the courtyard inside the North Gate, rushing to get to their positions. The Westerosi men were not as organized and disciplined as the Unsullied or his household guard, but Jon was just thankful to see no cowards fleeing in the other direction.

Before he could make it ten yards along the castle wall toward the open North Gate, Alyn Blackwood came forward with the Winterfell stableboys, holding the reins of eight horses. Jon already knew the Blackwood boy was a good choice for a squire and he had yet to disappoint. Despite the sense of chaos around them, Alyn was ready the moment Jon needed his destrier. Grabbing hold of the saddle, Jon pulled himself onto the powerful black destrier and looked over the thousands of men emptying out of the castle.

“Alyn, find yourself a horse from the stables and find us outside the North Gate. I will need you to send messages to the commanders during the fighting,” Jon reminded his squire. He could see the pride filling the boy from the Riverlands before he disappeared into the sea of men, headed toward the stables. After losing sight of the squire, Jon nudged his destrier forward, falling in line with the men headed to the battlefield.

Barristan Selmy and Arthur Dayne rode along either side, while the rest of the Kingsguard followed behind. With the gate just ten yards away, Jon tilted his head up to see the archers beginning to fill in the gaps along the ramparts. It would not be long before the entirety of the Winterfell battlements were manned. Twenty-four thousand men were chosen to remain inside the castle walls. Most were archers who would volley flaming arrows at the dead throughout the battle. Ten thousand of the men hailed from the Reach while the Vale and Riverlands contributed another five thousand each. Four thousand northmen were assigned throughout the ranks along the wall since they knew how to fight in the winter.

As they passed through the gate, into the open ground outside the well-protected walls of the seat of House Stark, the men parted left and right to find their positions. Jon rode straight ahead to sit at the center of their lines. To his left stood nine thousand men from his household guard, clad in their traditional black armor with additional layers of fur and wool underneath. Above their ranks, he found dozens of Targaryen banners stilled in the windless air. To his right, Jon rode past eight thousand Unsullied in perfect formation. Every single Unsullied stood unflinchingly in the cold northern air with no signs of fear in their eyes.

Coming to a halt at the front of his most loyal men, Jon looked forth toward the lines of Robb’s northmen. Forty thousand men of the North would hold the center of their lines against the Dead. Atop his destrier, Jon could make out the front of their lines, protected by a heavy shield-wall and men wielding longspears tipped with dragonglass. Several lines behind them stood three lines of archers who would volley flaming arrows until the trench was breached.

The four dozen giants were hard to miss as they took up their position with the forty thousand free folk split on either side of the northern army. Stannis Baratheon and his army from the Stormlands formed up behind Mance Rayder’s free folk to the east while Ardrian Celtigar and Monford Velaryon commanded the army from the Crownlands to the west behind Tormund Giantsbane.

Further down the western lines stood the Riverlords and the Blackfish, leading some twenty-five thousand men, hardened by years of fighting. Jon only hoped the best of their men did not fall to Tywin’s attacks years before. They saw little fighting along the Blackwater Rush and faced little resistance taking King’s Landing. Jon was confident that the Blackfish could hold his ground with a nearly unscathed army, well rested for one battle, even if it was the most important battle in the history of the Seven Kingdoms.

Willas Tyrell’s army of sixty thousand men from the Reach made up the end of their lines. It was their duty to protect the grounds around the Winterfell godswood and eventually flank the Dead’s western flank if the opportunity presented itself. _If they do not, Qhono, Aggo, and one hundred thousand riders will gladly enter the fray._

Beyond the army of the Stormlands, Jon could barely make out the sight of Jaime Lannister’s four thousand westermen. It was difficult to see through the forest of spears and banners, but he managed to glimpse the lion banner illuminated by one of the braziers within their lines for the archers. Jon knew Harrold Arryn and forty thousand men from the Vale made up the eastern lines past the small contingent from the Westerlands.

At the far edge of their eastern line stood the Dornish army, led by Lord Alaric Dayne and Edric Dayne. Jon was concerned how the Dornish would fare this far north more than any of their men, but he trusted the Daynes to lead them through the night. Lord Alaric had seen to it their army was well provisioned and clothed for winter before Edric returned to Westeros. _They just need to hold their ground long enough until Rakharo and Kovarro lead the other half of the khalasar._

When the horns alerting the armies of the coming battle stopped, Jon sat there and waited. It was all he could do as he listened to the sounds of men filling the ranks and trying to keep themselves warm without a hearth. In the first half hour after the first horn blasts, more followed from each army, telling him they were ready for battle. What came after was silence. Complete and utter silence, as the faintest sound of an approaching army could be heard.

All Jon saw across the fields outside Winterfell was darkness. It was only the sound of thousands of dead marching on Winterfell that let him know they were about to be attacked. His eyes darted back and forth over the northmen in front of him. As the Army of the Dead drew nearer, Jon wondered if they would attack in waves or a full-on assault as they did at Hardhomme.

“Knock! Draw!....Loose!” he heard the northern lords yell as the sound of the unseen army running across the battlefield became deafening. Everything about them seemed evil. It wasn’t just the rotting and skeletal appearance of the dead that haunted Jon. It was the sounds they made and their unbreakable commitment to kill anything and everything that draws breath.

His eyes tracked the flaming arrows arching into the night sky. Jon held his breath as the arrows started to fall, hoping the archers were reminded of the importance of not lighting the trench too soon. It was too dark for him to tell how many fell to the first volley. What he could see was the archers hitting their marks hundreds of feet beyond the trench. Any wight set aflame would fall before reaching the trench filled with oil.

Volley after volley was sent forth, cutting down wights charging toward the army of the living. After the fifth volley, Jon looked to the east and west, grateful not to see a wall of fire from the trenches dug across their lines. Not wishing to risk their battleplans any further, Jon turned to his loyal advisor from Bear Island, “Ser Jorah.”

“Archers to hold!” Jorah yelled toward the North Gate, waving the lit torch in his hand as a signal to Davos Seaworth. As planned, the horns atop the gate sounded, warning the archers from the Reach lines near the Godswood to the archers in the Dornish to halt their volleys. Jon knew battles quickly turned to chaos and well laid plans could go to shit before a commander could know. He thought they found themselves lucky not a single archer appeared to have ruined the first part of the battle.

Jon’s sense of relief was soon choked away by the swarms of wights crossing the trenches. Thousands and thousands of them charged toward the spike wall. The mindless foot soldiers of the Night King were far too eager to be impaled by the sharpened timber. As more wights emerged from the trench, the more Jon feared their barriers would not hold. He could hear the battle cries of men along the shield wall protecting the gaps between the barriers. _We must hold them off. More will come._

It was hard to see, but Jon could tell more and more wights were falling to the dragonglass spears wielded by the northmen and free folk ahead of him. Everything was going to plan, but he was starting to sense the well-constructed spike wall would not hold the dead for much longer. _Sooner or later they will sacrifice enough of their own to climb over it._

“Light the trench,” Jon said to Ser Jorah Mormont, keeping his gaze fixated on the fighting in front of him.

“Light the trench!”, Jorah echoed, again signaling to Davos for the archers to do their part along the walls of Winterfell. Jon could already see the last of the archers who stood at the front of the lines finding their way back to the North Gate.

Moments after Ser Jorah waved his torch, tens of thousands of lit arrows passed overhead, falling down onto the trench ahead. Almost instantly, the entirety of the trenches surrounding Winterfell exploded in walls of flame, engulfing the wights within the trench and the ones pinned against the spike wall. The explosion of the oil was enough to reach beyond the trenches and spread across the wights who had already passed through.

Tens of thousands cheered as the wights before them flailed around, trying to fight on until they succumbed to one of the few things that could kill that which was already dead. Jon looked to Arthur, atop the black destrier next to him, still looking for the second wave of attack. He knew just as well as Jon that this was not the end of it and that the battle was far from over. _The fires will give us an hour or two before the next assault._

Almost as if the Night King read his thoughts, Jon watched with horror as the strong flames within the trenches were extinguished at once. The air felt colder and their army went silent as a crypt. _Seven hells._ Jon now knew victory would be far harder to grasp than expected. He already believed their chances of survival and victory were minimal. With fire minimized, Jon knew they would have to rely on dragonglass, what little Valyrian steel they possessed, their likely superior numbers, and shear destructive force.

“Shields up! Shields up! Ready your spears! Ready your spears!” he heard across the ranks of the northern army. He could see the first few lines of spears pointed ahead. The men were no longer staring at their burning enemy with a sense of victory. It was in that moment, the men of Westeros learned of the true threat they faced. No longer could any man dismiss the White Walkers as a tale told to children to make them behave.

Their armies did not have to wait long for the second attack. Minutes after the freezing air choked the life out of the trench fires, thousands more wights rushed their lines. This time, their enemy found it far easier to reach them. The archers along the walls behind him returned to firing their flaming arrows at the wights. Most of their volleys were concentrated on the gaps between the barriers. It helped, but they did not have the same effect as the oil-filled trench.

Compared to the battles fought between men, the one unfolding around Jon sounded more horrific. The sound of screaming wights was unsettling and could instill fear in many men, he presumed. To his relief, he did not hear many screams from his men. For the most part, all he could hear was the wights’ unnatural screams, the clattering of steel, and the sound of dead men crashing against shields. _Where will he concentrate his attack?_

“The giants!” Ser Barristan yelled, drawing his attention to three of the giants loosing arrows into the darkness with their large bows. Jon knew that meant the Night King had several giants within his army. _Thank the old gods we prepared for this._

“He is testing our defenses,” Jon said, confirming his suspicion the Night King was smarter than he had revealed. This was not the same as the attack on Hardhomme. _How many are in his army?_

When Jon tried to look to the east and west, he failed to see if the strength of their enemy was focused on any one section of their lines. Without a clear picture of the entire battlefield, Jon twisted in his saddle to look up at the battlements of the North Gate. As the arrows continued to fly in the sky overhead, Jon found the soldier with a torch standing next to Davos Seaworth. The man was signaling the bulk of the Night King’s army was coming straight at Robb’s forces and the free folk. As the signal was given, a northern horn blast four times, letting the northmen know they would soon face a heavy assault.

Jon felt helpless as he watched the northmen ready for another attack as he sat behind their lines with Blackfyre sheathed on his hip. All he could do was tighten his grip on the reins as the horde of wights ran across the fields, through the smoldering trenches, and over the piles of burnt wights laying on the spike walls. It pained Jon to sit back and do nothing as the first part of their lines to be hit was directly in front of him. He knew Robb was in there, somewhere, fighting the dead and protecting Winterfell.

“Don’t” Ser Arthur said, reminding him of his duty as the King and commander of their armies. Jon had the self-control to stay put, but he knew his Kingsguard questioned his resolve when his hand came to rest on the pommel of Blackfyre.

As the second attack continued to unfold, Jon scanned the battle lines, searching for a weakness in their lines they would need to shore up. Robb and the northern lords held their ground, not giving an inch to the dead. At the edges of the northern army, he could see the giants destroying countless wights with unused wooden beams that were intended for the construction of homes or holdfasts.

Their enemy was relentless as more and more wights charged their lines. Jon could see the men who fought off the first wave were shifting back to the rear of the northern army, resting so fresh soldiers could hold off the wights. Those that survived and came into view were covered in mud, soot, ash, and some with blood. The ones covered in blood were the soldiers who fought beside a brother who fell or suffered a wound of their own. _At least there are not that many._

The fighting continued to rage on and Jon began to sense they would at least make it to morning. In the midst of the battle, he lost his sense of time but guessed sunrise was only one hour away. The men were standing their ground and putting down far more wights than the number they lost. He could not know for sure, but Jon thought they had the greater numbers.

Any sense of hope that grew inside him withered away at the sound of three giants screaming in pain. Their screams were more like roars. Jon guessed every man across the battle field could hear them. It was what he feared. After years of fighting in Essos, he knew the value of instilling fear in the hearts of men and destroying what his enemies thought impossible to destroy. The three giants falling to his left amongst Tormund Giantsbane’s forces was the first sign of the Night King and White Walkers imposing their will.

“Alyn!” Jon called for his squire, looking over his shoulder to see the boy riding up alongside Ser Jorah. “Go to Lord Davos and find out what you can about the eastern and western lines. Go! Ser Jorah, you have command. Kingsguard on me!”

Jon did not give Arthur or Barristan the chance to talk him down. He knew the Night King or at the very least several of the White Walkers would be pushing to break their lines at Tormund’s position. There was no doubt that the ice spears thrown at Vermithrex struck the giants. The wights had never displayed such skill or strength.

Riding his destrier toward the back of the northern phalanxes, Jon pulled on the reins and guided the beast to his left. As he passed Manderly and Flint men along the northern rear, he saw the Targaryen household guard raising their swords and clattering spears against shields to his left. After years of fighting, the men who served his House had become the most battle-hardened in all of Westeros and would follow him anywhere. _They have followed me everywhere without any seeds of doubt or questioning._

After reaching the western edge of the northern and Targaryen armies, Jon halted his horse at the edge of the soldiers from the Crownlands. Lord Ardrian Celtigar seemed to have already ordered the men under his command to line up right behind the free folk. The men from beyond the Wall were more experienced than any fighting against the dead, but they did not fight as an organized army like those south of the Wall. Jon feared a massacre, but instead found men in grey furs falling back behind the well-armored soldiers of the Crownlands. _They listened._

Dismounting his horse, Jon slid from the saddle and unsheathed Blackfyre. One by one, he pushed men aside, trying to get to the front line. He knew the White Walkers would be there soon if not already. Most of the dragonglass was used for spears and daggers, considering the difficulty of constructing a sword from the material. Jon knew the Valyrian steel wielded by himself and his Kingsguard was their best defense against the White Walkers.

Only five rows back from the fighting, Jon caught sight of Tormund bringing down his battleaxe on numerous wights while giving orders to his men at the same time. He was forced to push and shove his way through with Arthur right on his back. From the corner of his eye, he could see Dawn glimmering in the darkness. _He should have taken one of the Valyrian steel swords._

“Tormund! Tormund! Get the giants back! Get them back!” he yelled, finally catching Tormund’s attention. With a simple nod, Tormund returned to hacking away at two wights before yelling something toward the nearest giant ten yards away. Jon did not know their language, but the giants understood Tormund and began their retreat. Before the battle, they planned for the giants’ eventual retreat. Jon wanted to avoid too many of them falling and coming back to fight against them.

When Jon finally reached the fighting, he was forced to bring Blackfyre down upon a wight charging toward Tormund as the wildling fought another. Jon’s sword cut through the former wildling like it was nothing. _It will get harder when our own are raised here today._ So far, the wights they faced were for the most part unprotected. The Night King built his army beyond the Wall and there was little armor to be found there. And the armor that was adorned north of the Wall was poorly made and sourced from poor metal.

Before the first wight hit the ground by his blade, Jon was already blocking a blow from another before removing its skeletal head. The sound of steel against unprotected bone was unfamiliar to him. The only wights he had faced at Hardhomme still had flesh on their bones. Everywhere he looked now, there were all sorts of wights fighting in the Night King’s army, each more haunting than the next. _Or haunting to those who had never seen them._ With the battle having started more than an hour before, Jon hoped the men of Westeros lost their fear. There was no time for fear now.

Moments after he cut down his tenth wight, he felt warm blood hit his face. In the second that followed, he wondered if it was his or Ser Arthur’s. Relief was all he could feel when he turned to find the Sword of the Morning killing one enemy after the other. Ser Oswell stood just beyond Arthur with Simon and Garlan running through every mindless corpse that came their way. Jon’s eyes only lingered for a second before he was returning to the fighting in front of him.

Only a few dozen wildlings were at the front fighting alongside them now as the free folk withdrew to gather their strength. In their place, men serving House Sunglass, Rykker, and Bar Emmon were standing beside them. Jon and the Kingsguard were the lone soldiers wielding swords against the dead while the men of the Crownlands used their shields and spears to keep the dead at bay.

The strong shield wall was beginning to push the wights back, regaining the ground that was lost. Foot by foot, they were pushing the dead back to the mounds of bodies covering the wooden spikes that shielded most of their lines.

“Jon!” Ser Barristan Selmy yelled right next to him. Jon knew he needed to cut down the wight in front of him that struck at his legs when the Lord Commander of his Kingsguard called him by his name. After thrusting his sword into the chest of a wight and kicking the motionless corpse back, Jon looked up to find a dozen White Walkers slowly descending the piles of burn wights. _There are more than we knew. This is not all of them._

“Arthur!” he yelled to the Sword of the Morning, pointing his blade at the approaching enemy. The dornishman saw what he was pointing to and acknowledged what needed to be done with a simple nod of his helm before returning to what he did best. “Men, push the attack! March forward! Watch out for our fallen!”

 _We need to reach them before it is too late._ Jon found himself lost in the melee. He knew he was taking far greater risks than he should, breaking from the lines, unprotected from the shields of the Crownlands. There was no plotting or calculating feigns and strikes against an opponent. He was acting on instinct and speed, hacking away at wight after wight. It did not take long for him to lose count as more and more advanced on their position. His push toward the White Walkers was only made possible by his Kingsguard keeping up with him and a few brave men from Duskendale, as best he could gather by the look of their armor.

While Blackfyre impaled the skull of the last wight standing between Jon and the nearest White Walker, he glimpsed an ice spear falling down toward his head. Without thinking, he began to throw his body to his left, hoping to avoid the spear that could shatter even the best of castle-forged steel. Assisted by a kick to his hip from Barristan, Jon rolled onto the ground with the ice spear digging into the ground two feet away. _This is it._

Jon saw in those icy blue eyes, his opponent realizing his mistake. Striking true, Jon lunged upward, swinging Blackfyre from his left, across the White Walker’s undefended side, cutting through his exposed neck. Like at Hardhomme, the White Walker shattered like fallen glass. And just as his Uncle Benjen said, several wights in the background fell.

Through the shattered remains of the White Walker blown to the wind, Jon saw Barristan Selmy fighting off another White Walker with his Valyrian steel sword. Beyond the Lord Commander fought Brienne and Jonothor against two more White Walkers. Jon moved in to stop three wights charging at Ser Barristan. Each wight was caught unaware, beheaded by Blackfyre as Jon rushed in to save the knight who had just saved his own life.

Barristan fought as skillfully as his legend proceeded him. Jon was nearly out of reach as the White Walker took another step toward Ser Barristan. Seeing the knight was pulling his sword back for a strike of his own to meet the White Walker’s ice blade, Jon swung his Valyrian steel sword high and brought the very tip of it down, deflecting the blow intended for his Kingsguard. Instead of killing Barristan, the White Walker found his blade striking the snow-covered ground just before Valyrian steel cut through his face.

Trusting the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard to fend off the remaining wights as Brienne and Jonothor surrounded the remaining White Walker, Jon turned around in search of Ser Arthur. Before he could find the man who taught him how to swing a sword, Jon had to duck a battleaxe coming for his head. Stepping aside, Jon drove his sword through the attacking wight. As soon as he was finished with one, he had to bring down three more before he came upon Ser Arthur striking down one White Walker while facing another.

The blade made of ice and some magic he did not understand failed to destroy Dawn as it had normal blades. _I should have known. Dawn is not any normal steel._ Rushing to help the only thing close to a father he had left, Jon cut through every wight in his path with all his strength and speed. Jon’s swings were closer to a murderous rage than a skilled dance.

He trusted Arthur to defeat the foe, but he did not wish to lose him. The White Walker was being pushed back toward Jon, desperately fending off Arthur’s attack. _The Night King is mistaken if he thinks his soldiers can defeat Arthur in single combat._ Just feet away from the enemy’s back, Jon saw what he thought was Arthur’s eyes catching his approach.

Jon knew he was correct when Ser Arthur moved to the White Walker’s right, eliminating any chance of the foe finding Jon at his left. Moving as fast as he could, Jon beheaded the final wight to step in his way before lunging toward the unsuspecting White Walker, piercing his lightly protected side with Blackfyre. Like the others, the White Walker shattered and dozens of wights charging toward them fell.

His eyes scanned his surroundings looking for any foes. All that remained were nearly one hundred wights fighting against the knights and men at arms from the Crownlands behind them. When Jon looked harder at the foes amongst the living’s ranks, he realized their fallen soldiers had risen for the Night King or the White Walkers nearby. It sickened Jon to see men who had fought for him died on the battlefield, only to become one of the things they fought.

Twenty yards away, he managed to glimpse Simon Sunglass drive his Valyrian steel through the temple of a White Walker with the help of Oswell Whent and a knight from the Crownlands. Simon’s sword dealt the final blow to the Night’s King second wave of attack. Jon saw no more wights along their lines. There was still fighting further down the line, defended by the Riverlands and Reach.

As best he could tell, their losses were surprisingly few. He did not see any wights near the walls to the west. To the east, Jon saw piles of burnt and broken corpses of wights, but nothing more. _This is not it. The next assault will be the strongest._

“Reform the lines! Reform the lines!” he yelled to the men of the Crownlands as he marched back toward the army. The battlefield was littered with corpses, with barely any snow. The ground now matched the night sky that was beginning to turn to a dark blue hue. _Morning will be here soon._

Along his path toward the shield wall formed by men from Duskendale and Rook’s Rest, Jon did not miss the three giants lying dead with dragonglass spears buried in their heads. He was grateful the commanders and soldiers loyal to House Targaryen listened to his orders and warnings before the battle. The giants died fighting the dead and were stopped from joining their foes’ ranks. _How many would they kill before we could bring them down? Too many. Far too many._

“My King!” he heard a familiar voice, lifting his eyes from the dead giants to see Alyn Blackwood riding down an opening between the phalanxes with his hand holding the reins of another horse. Jon soon recognized the black destrier as his own and stepped forward to grab the reins from his squire.

“Alyn, tell me,” he commanded the Blackwood boy once settled in his saddle. Jon pulled the reins to twist the horse around to ride back to the North Gate that still remained open. _If that gate closes, it will mean we have lost nearly everything._

“Lord Davos said the largest force struck from here to Lord Stannis’ men. There were also concentrated attacks along Lord Willas’ lines and Lord Edric. Lord Davos said the Dornish managed to fight off the wights, but I left before word of the Reach lords returned,” Alyn Blackwood replied as they rode through the northmen and Crownlands.

Riding straight past the edges of the Targaryen household guard, Jon saw the wounded stumbling and sometimes being carried back toward the high walls of Winterfell. The wounded were far fewer than he predicted. He could not come up with any reason other than the men were standing their ground and fighting to the death if they could. Every man who drew breath in the North now knew the stakes of this war. Titles, gold, lands, and the rest meant nothing. _We have put aside our enmities and now stand together. We cannot fail now._

At the rear of their lines, Jon turned his horse to the left, following along the grey stone walls of Winterfell toward the North Gate. Ahead, he could see more wounded entering the castle with assistance from the men who served as reinforcements behind the walls. Making sure he was not hallucinating, Jon glanced over his shoulder to confirm none of his Kingsguard had fallen. All seven of the knights rode behind him in their silver and gold armor. Their breastplates were covered in blood, dirt, and bits of what looked like rotten flesh.

Glad to see he had not led any of them to their deaths, he returned his gaze to the ground ahead, bringing his destrier to a halt where Davos, Jorah, and Grey Worm stood. None of them looked pleased. Each held a grim look. Jon’s thoughts turned to the worst. He wondered which of their armies suffered the heaviest losses. _Did they nearly reach the walls further down the line?_

“What? What is it?” he asked after dismounting his horse, standing before his Hand and loyal commanders.

“My eyes aren’t that great your Grace, but the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch and his rangers say there are well over two hundred thousand more,” Davos Seaworth said with apprehension. Jon could tell the Onion Knight wished it to be untrue, but they both knew better. Edd and his rangers had spent years looking down from the Wall, waiting for the Dead to come. _If they say there are two hundred thousand more of them, it is true._

“The night sky will be gone soon. They will likely strike at first light,” Jon said, looking toward the northern horizon, failing to see past the northmen standing between him and the Army of the Dead.

“We do not have long,” Ser Jorah Mormont said.

“The Night King will attack us with everything he has now. He knows our strengths and weaknesses. Who fared the worst?” Jon asked, looking to Davos.

“The knights of the Vale and Dornish pushed them back, but my men say they did not face any White Walkers,” Davos replied.

“We must be ready for all possibilities, but I trust what my uncle told me. He will send a strong force against Lord Willas and the lords of the Reach. They will try to get to Bran. Alyn, have our horses ready to ride out and meet him if he nears the wall of the godswood. I will stay here and defend the North Gate. If it falls, so does Winterfell. Davos, send riders to warn Lord Willas. Jorah, send one of your men to Lords Harrold and Edric to warn them they may face the worst of it. Edric knows the weak point along the wall behind him,” Jon ordered his men.

“Yes, my King,” each of them said, acknowledging their orders before departing to carry them out.

“Davos!” he called for his Hand, causing the old man to stop in his tracks and turn to face him. “Ready the signal for the Dothraki. We will need them this time.”

“Aye,” Davos responded before turning back to the North Gate behind them.

“Grey Worm,” Jon called the commander of the Unsullied forward. “Hold the gate, for as long as you can.”

“Yes, my King,” Grey Worm promised. Jon did not need to hear any further words from one of his most loyal commanders and advisors. Grey Worm’s face and tone told him the Unsullied would die defending the gate until the last man in hope of victory. _I pray it does not come to that. Or else, I have freed them from their chains only to lead them to death defending foreign people in a foreign land._

“Hold it,” Jon reaffirmed his order anyway, earning a nod from the commander of the Unsullied.

After Grey Worm disappeared into the ranks of the Unsullied, Jon looked to the north and decided where he needed to be. His place was beside Robb and the northmen, fighting to defend Winterfell and the lands ruled by his blood for thousands of years. _My mother was a Stark, born of Winterfell. There are far worse ways to die than defending the castle she was raised in. The castle I was raised in for a time._

“Where are you going?” Arthur Dayne asked.

“Defending the North, Ser Arthur. If I am going to die, I am going to die beside the northmen. I will fight alongside the Unsullied and household guard I have led all this way,” Jon replied, turning back toward Robb’s men. He did not make it ten steps before he heard his Kingsguard catching up with him, not letting him out of their sight.

“You really are a bloody northern fool,” Ser Arthur cursed for only themselves to hear. Jon couldn’t stop from chuckling at his Kingsguard hitting him with his wives’ words.

“Aye, you can tell my wives they were right if you see them again,” he told his Kingsguard, earning a wary look from the Sword of the Morning.

“Tell them yourself,” Arthur replied, doing his best to make him believe there was a scenario where he came out of this alive. _That isn’t likely I am afraid._

As they made their way through the northern ranks, Arthur’s words reminded Jon of his family. All he could think of in that moment were his children and wives. Their faces were a poison he did not need to drink before the battle. Searching for Robb, Jon cursed himself for thinking of his family and banished the thoughts from his mind. _My focus needs to be on our enemy, the battlefield, and my men. Nothing else, or I will cause my own death and the deaths of others._

It took some time, but Jon eventually found his way through the ranks of Stark, Reed, and Umber men near the front lines of their army. Men from Houses Umber, Dustin, and Karstark held the shields that would form the wall standing against the first wave of wights to attack. Standing beside Howland Reed and Greatjon Umber, Jon found his cousin, Robb Stark, staring at the open fields beyond the remnants of the fighting earlier in the night.

Brushing past two of Robb’s household guard, Jon came to stand next to his cousin, looking at what was left of the Army of the Dead. The sky was turning to a blueish-grey as the sun started rise, unseen over the horizon. As it was during the night, the northern sky was covered by clouds. With the black of night gone, Jon’s eyes saw what they truly faced. A fourth of a mile beyond the burnt trenches stood the entirety of the Night King’s army. The wights extended the entirety of the army defending Winterfell.

“You should be back there, commanding the men,” Robb said, his gaze still intently focused on the enemy across the field.

“So, should you,” Jon replied with a smirk on his lips. Neither of them were inclined to let their men fight for them and they both knew it.

Neither said anything else. Both waited for the impending attack. Jon did not feel he needed to say anything. Robb was like a brother to him and Jon knew his cousin felt the same. _I am not going to spend my final hour trying to forge a poetic speech. Neither of us are good with words._

As it was before the battle, the waiting was almost as bad as the battle itself. They were forced to stand there, watching and waiting for the enemy to make the first move. Jon was not going to lead his men into a final charge against the Night King and his army. There was still the possibility of another army of wights, waiting for the living to strike and be caught out in the open.

Half an hour after finding Robb, Jon saw the Army of the Dead begin to move forward. As the approaching horde moved forward, the horns across their lines and further back, along the walls of Winterfell sounded off. Jon turned to look at Robb, making sure his cousin was ready. Seeing there was no worry or fear in the Lord of Winterfell’s eyes staring ahead, Jon returned to his gaze to the Dead. “Winter is here.”

“My father always promised,” Robb replied, unsheathing his Valyrian steel sword. _Aye._ “This is it men!”

Tens of thousands of wights were running across the snow-covered field that separated the living from the dead. The mounds of burnt and motionless wights that were piled on top of the wooden spikes hindered his view from the rest of the battlefield. Jon could not tell if the Dead were heavily concentrated on one part of the field as opposed to another. What he did know was the White Walkers would try to breach the North Gate.

Standing at the center of the northern army, Jon braced himself for the impending attack. The wights were passing through the gap in the trenches, but he did not see any White Walkers with them. As the Dead drew closer, only fifty feet away, the northern commanders ordered the spearmen to lower their spears to hit their charging foe. Thousands poured through the opening and over the piles of dead.

“Stand your ground!” Jon yelled seconds before the Dead crashed into their shield wall like the strong waves hitting the cliffs of Dragonstone during the worst of storms. The sheer force of thousands moved their line back several feet. Momentum was on their opponents’ side, but the living had the advantage of skilled fighters, armor, better weapons, and intelligence. The spearmen were effective in the first seconds of the attack, but it came down to the men wielding short spears, swords, and battle axes in the second and third rows of the phalanx.

Just in front of him, Jon could see the wights attempting to find any gap in the shields, trying to force their way through. Every time one wight attempted to overtake the northman in front of him, Jon thrust Blackfyre into the mindless soldiers fighting to bring back the Long Night. Minutes into the attack, Jon knew there was no ground being gained. The stalemate told him this would come to be a battle of attrition in front of the North Gate. He prayed it was similar across the battlefield, for the northmen were losing few men around him.

Before long, Jon realized the wights they killed were beginning to pile up in front of them. When he looked up in the sky, arrows were still flying overhead, hitting the enemy another hundred feet further back. Luck must have been on his side, because he managed to catch the first of the wights climbing over the growing mound of corpses and leaping over the shield wall into their phalanx.

“Look out!” Jon yelled to his cousin standing shoulder to shoulder with him. The leaping wight failed to bring his sword down onto Robb when Jon raised Blackfyre to meet the falling wight. The lifeless corpse fell on top of them and Jon was quick to pull on the wight’s exposed ribs, shoving it to the ground before more followed.

“Move back! Move back!” Jon heard Howland Reed order the men. The Lord of Greywater Watch knew just as well as he did the wights were starting to jump over their lines and wreak havoc within the phalanxes. With each step backwards, Jon felt a small defeat hitting them after another. He never liked giving away ground but it was the sound battle tactic. _As long as we keep them out of Winterfell and we find the Night King._

Allowing twenty feet of separation between the front of their lines and the piles of dead allowed their army to establish their supremacy on the field. Again, Jon was cutting through wights. As he buried his sword into the face of what used to be a wildling woman, he heard three short horn blasts coming from the west. _Fuck._

Jon now knew the Army of the Dead was making progress along their lines. He continued to stab and hack at their attackers while his thoughts were focused on the situation along the northwestern walls. He did not know if it was the Blackfish and the riverlords who needed assistance, or Willas Tyrell and the lords of the Reach. _Did something go wrong or are we facing the least resistance here? Does the Night King even care about the gate?_

It was not a minute later before Jon heard another three horn blasts, this time from the east. Now he questioned whether Edric Dayne or Harrold Arryn were fighting the greater numbers. Stuck on the ground, unable to see the battlefield atop Vermithrex, Jon felt helpless, not knowing where his men needed aid. In this moment, he was just another foot soldier and not a dragonlord of Old Valyria. He was forced to fight like every other man, like his father did, without dragons and their powerful fire. _Davos, now is the time._

“If they break the Vale and Reach lines, we will not last much longer,” Robb warned him after deflecting a short sword aimed at his head. _If they reach the walls, they can begin to hit our rear. Grey Worm will hold them off as long as he can._

“We just need to hold the line a bit longer,” Jon yelled after a poorly made bronze spear glanced off the boiled leather protecting his shoulder. Not giving the wight another chance to kill him, Jon grabbed hold of the midpoint of the spear with one hand and thrust the tip of Blackfyre into the wight’s chest.

“You need to get back to the gate,” Arthur yelled to him while reaching past the northmen in front of him, driving Dawn into the inferior opponents before him.

“No, we must find the Night King,” Jon protested. They were the few who wielded Valyrian steel and that was the only weapon that could stop him or the White Walkers. The dragonglass could kill them, but most of it was forged into spears and daggers. Neither would last long against the ice spears and blades carried by the White Walkers.

Minute after minute passed by as the dead started to pile up again. Jon feared they would continue to give up ground until their backs were forced against the walls of Winterfell and then there would be nowhere to fall back to. Tens of thousands of men would die before they could reach the gate. Thousands more would fall after them. Jon gave Davos strict orders to close the gate, shutting the Dead out even if it meant leaving their own men to die.

As the battle raged, Jon felt himself tiring, never once abandoning the front line even as others did. Robb stayed at his side as well as the Kingsguard. He was not going to stop until he could no longer lift his sword. The physical pain in his muscles was not the worst of it. The endless supply of soldiers the Night King had at his disposal drained any hope he had for victory. There was no sign of the Dothraki and no signs pointing to the living pushing the dead back across the battlefield.

The moment after he pulled Blackfyre out of the skull of another wight, Jon felt blood hit his face. He did not know whose blood it was until the man fighting for House Stark in front of him fell with his shield. _This is it._ Jon readied himself for the swarm of wights that would pour through the opening of the wall formed by the northern shields.

With Blackfyre raised over his head, Jon prepared to take out the first two wights moving in on him. Before he could swing the blade wielded by Aegon the Conqueror, he heard the familiar sounds of a Dothraki horde riding into battle. Their screams and war horns echoed across the battlefield. Matching the screams of the Essosi warriors were the battle cries of the northern army, invigorated by the arrival of two hundred thousand fresh soldiers on horseback, cutting their way through the Army of the Dead.

“Push them back! Push them back! Drive them out!” Jon yelled, cutting his way through the wights in front of him. He could not say if many heard him over the fighting around him, but the men of the North seized the momentum and turned the tide of the battle against the Dead. They were gaining five feet every second.

The well organized and highly disciplined lines that once held the ground they stood turned into a chaotic, yet victorious charge. Jon and the men around him were cutting down everything the stood in their way. Foe after foe fell before them. If he was tired before, he did not know it now as he climbed the second pile of bodies.

Once he made it past the wights they had killed earlier in the morning, Jon led the northmen with Robb through the open ground between the now covered spiked barriers and blackened trenches. What he saw before him was shocking and confusing. His khalasar was riding through the Dead, cutting them down with flaming arakhs. He remembered the stories of Thoros of Myr charging through the gate at Pyke, wielding a flaming sword. Jon now saw tens of thousands of Dothraki wielding steel and fire against their enemy. _Melisandre._

With his Kingsguard right behind him and Robb at his side, Jon weaved his way through the chaos. Wights were falling everywhere he looked, but so were the occasional Dothraki. Around the field, he managed to spot horses overwhelmed by attacking wights, finally knocked to the ground and a sure death.

Doing his best to avoid the riders moving through the battlefield at great speed, Jon sidestepped the Dothraki while finding any wight he could kill. The battle was in their favor here, but he did not know what was happening elsewhere. _Where is he?_ Every chance he had, Jon scanned the battlefield, searching for the Night King.

Minutes after crossing the trench lines with the northern army at his back, Jon felt a cold chill cut through the air and cover the battlefield. The fires that danced on the arakhs wielded by the Dothraki were extinguished all at once, just as the fires that consumed the trenches in the night. _He is here._

Directly ahead of him, the center mass of the Army of the Dead looked untouched by the Dothraki charge. There was still fighting to the east and west. His eyes could not see what was happening, but his ears told him the khalasar was still carving its way through the dead, relying only on steel to break the wights on the ground.

Jon did not know it until he laid eyes on the Night King, standing directly across from him. He was too far away, but Jon knew the icy blue eyes were staring back at him. Jon had become so focused on the enemy ahead of him that he did not notice the eerie silence passing over the battlefield around him. His men stood with him, waiting for someone to make the first move.

The second he took a step forward, Jon saw the Night King raise his arms as he did at the docks of Hardhomme. Surrounded by twenty or more White Walkers, the Night King showed no emotion as his arms were level with his shoulders. Jon knew this was it. It was here, in the fields outside Winterfell where the battle for the North and likely the Seven Kingdoms would be settled. _Defeat isn’t an option. It can’t be. My children will see spring._

As their fallen brothers began to rise, Jon knew what must be done. He looked over to Robb and the Greatjon Umber before looking to his left. There, he found Arthur Dayne and the entirety of his Kingsguard still standing with Ser Jorah Mormont and Alyn Blackwood. He nodded to each of them, letting them know he was not willing to retreat. They would fight their way through the wights, the raised Dothraki, and any White Walker who stood in their way. One of them needed to kill the Night King and end this.

There was a hundred feet standing between himself and the hundreds of wights looking on. Jon needed to get through them before reaching the Night King and the White Walkers another fifty feet back. _This is it. This is where we win or we fall._

Reaffirming his grip on Blackfyre, Jon looked down at the Valyrian steel covered in mud, rotten flesh, and blood. He remembered all the tales surrounding the sword and what it meant to House Targaryen’s history. Jon hated the idea, but he knew it was likely the sword would be lost to their family again after the battle. He dreamed of the day he could hand it to Rhaegar, when he was old and no longer worthy of wielding the sword. _That day will never come._

With one heel dug into the ground, Jon took one step forward with the other. Slowly, he built up his march into a run across the snow toward the waiting enemy. He pushed away the battle cries from the men behind him as he kept his gaze on the Night King. He was determined not to let him out of his sight. Either way, one of them would be dead before midday. No wight or White Walker was going to get in his way. All who stood in his path would fall by his hand. The realms of men deserved more than an endless night and an endless winter. As long as he breathed, Jon would not accept such a fate for Westeros.

Just twenty feet stood between himself and the Dead as he began to lift Blackfyre over his shoulder. Jon saw the rare defensive stance from the dead and knew he would need to deflect the waiting spears before moving in to cut down the dead. He was risking everything, but he had to. There was no choice.

Before he could reach the enemy lines, his ears began to filter out the silence and take in the sounds of the battle around him. He could hear cheers and the sound of men during a victory. He did not know why until he heard the familiar sound above and a wave of heat pass over him. His eyes were nearly blinded by the wall of fire that poured down onto the wights before him. All that stood between him and the Night King were consumed by the blaze. It was hard to tell, but he watched as the firestorm moved further and further back until it consumed the White Walkers and their King.

 

 

**Daenerys Targaryen**

Daenerys did not even feel the bumps and rough jolts that shook the wheelhouse travelling south, down the Kingsroad. She was numb to it all. The night sky outside the window next to her head was beginning to turn to a dark blue-grey hue from black. Her eyes did not leave the dark horizon. All she could think about was Jon and what she had left behind.

With every mile, she felt a dagger digging a little deeper into her heart. Daenerys thought the lowest moments of her life were learning of her brother and nephew’s deaths. She always felt terrible when she recalled the memory of Jon speaking with Benjen Stark in the Winterfell training yard. Memories of actual loss and the potential loss of her husband were bitter reminders of the pain that could be found in the world. None of it compared to how she felt now.

She hated the idea of leaving him. It was only the warmth of Rhaegar and Arya sleeping on her that forced her to rest her eyes. The sleep she did find only lasted an hour and she was brought back to the state of dread and despair that consumed her. Daenerys’ mind told her Jon was right and she needed to stay with the children. She trusted his judgement when it came to matters of war and accepted his decision. The thought never crossed her mind that the dragons were truly vulnerable but she would not test it if he said so.

Her heart told her something else. The mother inside her wanted to protect her children with all her strength and everything she had. The wife inside her wanted to be there with Jon, fighting alongside him, protecting him from the dangers of battle. He was the thing that made her whole. She did not know what life was like without him. All she knew was his presence.

The sons and daughters she had given him needed her now, but she felt like she was abandoning him. She did not allow him to take the black and ride off to Castle Black. _Why have I let him go now? After all this? Everything we have built together and I turn away now? I should have stayed. Damn him and the risks._

Hours before, when their party had stopped along the Kingsroad to rest and feed the horses for a brief time, Arya Stark managed to slip away into the darkness with a horse, her direwolf, and its pack of wolves from the Riverlands. Lady Catelyn cursed and berated the men who had allowed her daughter to sneak away and return to Winterfell. Daenerys secretly admired Jon’s cousin. She wished she had done the same with Drogon. Every time she felt the urge to climb out of the wheelhouse, little Arya or Senya would tug on her coat for warmth, as if reminding her of her duty to protect her little dragons.

For a long part of the night, Daenerys lost track of their dragons. She could not see them flying overhead and never heard the beat of their wings or roars that could echo through the sky. With the sky beginning to turn grey, she could now see Rhaegal and Viserion flying to the east, weaving back and forth along the Kingsroad. She prayed to the old gods Jon would return to her and fly with her again.

Daenerys knew the future she wanted. _The future we deserve._ She wanted Jon to be her King and her his Queen. Ever since he was named King, she pictured a Westeros under his rule. A rule of peace and prosperity, earned after years of war and the vanquishing of their enemies. She wanted to destroy Houses Lannister and Greyjoy. She wanted to crush the lesser lords who rebelled against them and bring them fire and blood. Jon was the one who cautioned against destroying entire Houses.

She would never bring war upon the smallfolk or slaughter villages, but Daenerys was not as forgiving to the high lords who stood against them. Jon was the one who tempered herself and Rhaenys. He reminded them that allowing enemies to bend the knee would bring about a more stable realm after the war. _He needs to see it, the vision he has for the Seven Kingdoms. He needs to be there, with me, to see our Kingdom prosper and our children grow. I need my husband and our children need their father._

“Mother, what’s wrong with Ghost?” Senya mumbled, staring out the window. Daenerys’ attention was drawn from the dragons dancing in the sky to the white direwolf walking alongside their wheelhouse. She did not know what her daughter meant until she saw Ghost look over his shoulder for the third time. Ghost had never acted like a nervous beast before. Jon’s direwolf was always silent and calm, never unnerved by anything, even when it meant attacking their enemies. _Something is wrong._

“He is just cold, that is all,” she lied to her daughter. Senya kept her eye on the direwolf, as if she dismissed her warning, knowing the truth was something else. Daenerys questioned whether her tone was even convincing. Whenever the time came for a battle, she always put on a brave face and a cheerful tone that comforted the princes and princesses. Daenerys now knew her skill was only as good as the confidence she had in victory. Her fears were showing through and she felt like she was failing to protect her children from the truth.

When she finally took her eyes off Ghost, Visenya was sitting across from her, awake and alert. Daenerys found her to be concentrating on the direwolf as intensely as her namesake. Even with Brandon in her arms, Visenya was clutching Dark Sister’s grip. _I am not mad. My daughter is not mad. Visenya senses it too. Something is wrong._

“What is it?” Rhaenys asked, waking from what little sleep she had. Daenerys could see Rhaenys had nothing left inside her by the look on her dried, tear-stained cheeks. Like herself, Rhaenys cried from Winter Town until they were far south of Winterfell and there were no more tears to shed. She looked exhausted and defeated. Daenerys guessed it was like looking at her own reflection. _I feel the same._

“Ghost keeps looking back,” Visenya said, focused only on the direwolf. “To the north.”

“This isn’t right,” Rhaenys replied, clutching a sleeping Daenys. Daenerys was glad to see the silver haired princess finally find her sleep. _I hope her dreams are far better than her namesake. We need it._

Wanting to voice her agreement, Daenerys opened her mouth, only to be stopped by Vermithrex’s fierce roar filling the sky above them. Daenerys felt her walls of self-control crumble under the weight of the grey dragon’s thunderous roar. Ghost nearly drove her out of the wheelhouse and to Drogon. Jon’s dragon was the final push, telling her what needed to be done. _I am Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, wife and Queen to Jon of House Targaryen._

“Stop the wheelhouse,” she yelled after lifting Senya off her and knocking on the wooden wall behind her. It took several knocks for the wheelhouse and the rest of the caravan to come to a halt. Being quick about it, Daenerys kissed each of her sons and daughters on the brow before moving toward the door opened by a member of their household guard.

“Where are you going?” Visenya asked as Daenerys stepped onto the two feet of snow covering the ground along the Kingsroad. She could already see Drogon starting his descent toward the open field in front of her.

“Winterfell. I will not sit back and let Jon fight this war on his own,” she yelled, marching toward the black-scaled dragon waiting for her in the snow. She could hear the protests from the men instructed to protect her with their lives. Not bothering to listen to their actual words, she waved them away with her hand as Drogon let out a scream, warning the men not to follow her. _Do not think to stop me. I will burn any man, living or dead, who stands in my way now._

“Wait! Wait!” she heard Visenya cry out. Daenerys reached Drogon and began to run her gloved hand gently over his snout before looking back to see Rhaenys and Visenya catching up to her. Both were pregnant, but still able to move swiftly without assistance. Daenerys knew she should dissuade them, given their condition, but she had flown and fought in battles in a similar condition. _I cannot tell them to turn back. They are driven by the same love driving me._

“We are going with you,” Rhaenys confirmed, standing before her, bundled in a similar winter dress to her own that was fit for dragonriding. Daenerys looked both Queens in the eyes. She knew the determined look in the sisters she had grown up with. They were not asking to fly with her.

“We will destroy the Night King and his army, together,” she said, gathering both Visenya’s and Rhaenys’ hands in a firm grip. Both shot her looks of agreement and steely determination. At the sound of another roar from Vermithrex, Daenerys let go and turned on her heels to move to Drogon’s shoulder.

As she climbed the hot scales of her dragon, Daenerys scanned the horizon for any signs of the Dead nearing the caravan. She wanted to ensure the surrounding lands were safe before taking the protection of dragons away from her children. _The direwolves will keep them safe._

Seconds before urging her mount to take flight, Daenerys saw her mother standing between Lyanna and Elia. All three women stared at them, but did not say a word. She knew she was making the right decision when she saw no protest from her mother. Her mother was cautious and would be the last member of their family to advise a risky move. _She knows Jon needs us._

“Sovegon!” Daenerys let out, sending herself and Drogon off the snowy ground and into the frigid northern air. Daenerys urged Drogon to continue his climb until they were level with Rhaegal and Viserion, who lingered higher than the Wall stood. She was sure they were more than one thousand feet in the air as she waited for Rhaenys on Myrax and Visenya on Silverclaw to join her.

After circling the caravan below several times, Visenya pulled Silverclaw alongside her with Rhaenys right behind her on the crimson-scaled dragon. Wanting to get to Winterfell as soon as possible, Daenerys dug her nails into Drogon’s impregnable scales, telling him they needed to fly as fast as his wings could carry them.

Following the Kingsroad, Daenerys searched the lands to the north for the first sign of Winterfell and the battle against the Dead. She knew it would not take long for the dragons to carry them the distance they achieved in one night, on the ground. All she saw was forests, groves, hills, and fields for a time until she saw the hills familiar to her and the Great Keep of Winterfell standing beyond them.

As Winterfell grew larger and larger, Daenerys looked for any signs of the fighting reaching Winter Town. There was nothing. All she saw were abandoned tents, empty cobbled and muddy streets, and lifeless buildings. There was not a single man below, only the occasional horse, mule, or dog. When her eyes looked further on to the grounds near the South Gate, Daenerys saw an empty field. _The khalasar is in the battle._

It was only when Winterfell stood a half mile away and their dragons began their descent due to the low hanging clouds, Daenerys saw the battle raging below. The great fields and hills north of Winterfell were covered by the Army of the Dead. She could see the bulk of the wights attacking from the northwest had reached the walls of the godswood, breaking the forces led by Willas Tyrell. Swarms of wights were climbing on top of each other to get to the godswood. Daenerys looked over her shoulder to see Visenya break off from their formation to lead Vyraxes, Darkskye, and Sonar to burn the Dead before Winterfell became overwhelmed.

Hearing a cry from Myrax, Daenerys twister her head to see Rhaenys breaking away to lead Kios, Moonlight, and Stormfyre to attack the wights splitting the knights of the Vale. The Dead had broken through Harrold Arryn’s men, but were being held back by the defenders atop the ramparts. The Dornish were making their way around the battlefield, having defeated the wights that attacked them.

In the seconds Daenerys had left before she was flying over the battle, she carefully looked for the place she was needed. The Dothraki led by Kovarro and Rakharo were spread from the Dornish army to the far end of the northern edge of the battlefield near the hills and forests that surrounded the Kingsroad. Everywhere she looked, the khalasar was riding through, split apart, but still cutting down the Dead.

At a quick glance, she saw Qhono and Aggo’s riders trying to run down the wights who were making their way through the lords of the Reach. _Visenya will see them burnt. She will not let the godswood fall to the White Walkers._

With the North Gate directly underneath, Drogon flew straight ahead with Vermithrex to her right and Viserion and Rhaegal to the left. On the field, she spotted the northern army charging toward tens of thousands of wights waiting for them. The Unsullied and Targaryen household guard were rushing behind them, pushing their advantage.

It was there, at the head of the northmen, Daenerys saw the armor she could feel on her skin and smell as if he was standing right in front of her. She wanted to curse him for running ahead of the Kingsguard like a bloody fool, but Daenerys was quick to understand why. She saw the figures that looked different than the rest. The wights looked like what she expected dead men and women to look like. The White Walkers were different, just as Jon described them. Their skin looked like ice and their eyes were likely even worse, she guessed. _We will bring them fire and blood._

As Drogon began their descent, she felt the fury of her dragon. Drogon was hers, but he would always protect her family. Jon was the blood of the dragon and like herself, she knew Drogon would end those who stood against him. Daenerys felt time slipping through her fingers as Jon got closer and closer to the Dead. Just as he was about to reach the wights, Daenerys felt Drogon level off and she lost sight of him.

“Dracarys!” she cried, unleashing her dragon’s might and fury upon the dead. The wave of dragonfire tore through the mass of soldiers, destroying all that stood in their path. In a matter of seconds, she pulled on the scales below her, halting Drogon so he could burn the Night King below. Drogon kept them steady, flapping his wings so they hovered over the White Walkers. _Burn them Drogon. Burn them all._

The firestorm below raged as Vermithrex added his flame to the inferno before Viserion and Rhaegal joined in. Daenerys no longer felt cold. The dragonfire was as hot as a blacksmith’s forge. The heat was surely unbearable for the northmen behind her, but Daenerys relished the feeling of fire. Her eyes could not leave the walls of dancing flames, knowing this was the end. _There will be no Long Night. This will not be the end of our House or our Realm._

Daenerys did not know why, but she began to listen. It was difficult to hear anything when the dragons unleashed their flames. The moment she tore her eyes from the fire below, she heard someone screaming her name. The voice was panicked and filled with concern one only voiced for someone they loved. _Jon! Sovegon! Drogon, sovegon!_

In her panic, her words failed her, but the dragons always knew her feelings and true thoughts. Knowing what she wished, Drogon abandoned their attack and climbed as fast as she could remember into the sky. The other three dragons followed her to the north. When they banked to the west, she saw they had destroyed the wights, but the White Walkers remained untouched. Daenerys could not think. Nothing had ever withstood their dragons. They had destroyed heavy walls, torn down strong gates, and brought down the greatest of buildings.

Seconds after Drogon turned to the west, she glimpsed an ice spear flying toward Viserion. Her heart came to a halt as her eyes tracked the spear cutting through the sky toward her dragon. The fear that coursed through her veins was unbearable. Daenerys thought she was going to lose a dragon, but found herself lucky as the dragon dipped below the spear. _I must protect them._

Mindful of the White Walkers, Daenerys now knew why Jon did not want the dragons here. Daenerys had to be smart about her attacks and she looked down at the battle below. Visenya was raining fire upon the wall of the godswood, burning thousands of wights. Rhaenys flew back and forth to the east, wreaking havoc upon the dead with the assistance of the Dornish and stormlords below.

Daenerys decided she needed to burn the northern perimeter of the battlefield, preventing any escape. The White Walkers were defeated, but lived on thousands of years ago. She was not going to make the same mistake the First Men made long ago. _This ends here._

Determined to leave a path of destruction behind her, Daenerys led the four dragons along the rear of the Army of the Dead. Dragonfire consumed thousands of wights as she flew to the west, burning every wight that was not mixed in with the khalasar and Westerosi armies that were closer to the castle walls. The dragons built a wall of fire that prevented any retreat to the groves and woodlands to the north. When she reached the end of the battlefield still held by the knights of the Reach that were still standing, Daenerys pulled on Drogon to turn around and repeat their attack.

The dragons were forcing the dead into the khalasar tearing through the middle of the battlefield. Daenerys looked for Jon at the center of the fighting but the lines were blurred and everything turned to chaos. She was still able to burn a path of fire along the edge of the battle, but everywhere else was chaos. If she entered the fray, she would burn thousands of her own men.

She wanted to save Jon, but she knew she could do nothing about it. The dragons could not be risked around the White Walkers and now she knew fire could not defeat them. Daenerys pushed on, leading Drogon over the northern edge of the battle toward the northeastern edge being torn apart by Rhaenys. Myrax’s path of fire curved and crossed over itself. Daenerys did not know if Rhaenys was cutting through the dead with the elegance of Ser Arthur Dayne with a sword, or with the wild ferocity of a drunken wildling with a battleaxe, killing anything in sight.

Daenerys reminded herself over and over again not to let her rage and fear consume her as she burned the dead below. She wanted and needed to be better than the few ancestors that painted their House with an evil reputation their enemies loved to bring up. This was a fight for the living, but she could not sacrifice their own men, even if it meant increasing their odds of victory.

When she reached Rhaenys and the four dragons she led, Daenerys fell in behind Myrax over Winterfell, looking inside the castle below. Wights and White Walkers were surely in the godswood, but there was nothing they could do. Hundreds of men were inside there and they stood a better chance of halting the White Walkers than herself.

The North Gate was still untouched, but the lack of crowded ramparts told her their Hand had sent many of its defenders to other parts of Winterfell. If the wights escaped the godswood, Daenerys remembered Jon saying Winterfell would fall soon after. _Do not fail us. We are so close._

 

**Jon Targaryen**

The men around him backed away, unable to bear the heat coming from the dragonfire raining down upon the wights and White Walkers in front of them. He wanted to be angry with her, but he could not deny the pride and relief swelling inside him as the flames danced in his eyes. Daenerys and Drogon were there to save them. _There were too many of them for us to have a chance._

As the firestorm raged in front of him, he realized the battle was still ensuing to the east and west. The Dead were not falling and the men were still dying. _It’s not possible. Their flames have melted castles and destroyed cities._

As soon as he spotted the first White Walker standing within the flames, he took a step forward, but remembered his leathers and wool could still burn. He felt helpless, but knew he had to do something. Daenerys and Drogon were easy targets, staying in place over the Night King and the White Walkers. _She cannot see. She does not know._

“Daenerys! Daenerys! Leave! Go now! Leave! Dany!” Jon screamed her name over and over again. She was not hearing him and panic filled his bones. He was ready to call Vermithrex down to him until he saw her look to her side as if she was trying to catch what he was yelling. He did not know if it was Daenerys or Drogon who heard his cries, but the black dragon bolted into the sky at great speed with Rhaegal and Viserion right behind him. Vermithrex hesitated until Jon waved his dragon on, telling him to leave. _Go! Stay with Dany._

As the fires began to die down without the dragons keeping the flames alive, Jon began his slow march toward their enemy. Before he made it ten feet, he saw an ice spear thrown across the sky, headed towards Daenerys and the four dragons she led. A chill passed through him, telling him this was it. But it was not the thing that would see their defeat. Viserion managed to avoid the spear, diving toward the ground at the last possible moment before returning to Drogon’s side.

After the near tragedy, Jon swore to himself he would not let it come to that again. If he did not defeat the Night King now, a dragon would eventually fall and the Dead will have taken Winterfell. And with the fall of Winterfell, the Night King would have rebuilt his army with nothing to stop him from killing every living thing from Winterfell to Sunspear.

Running across the charred ground, Jon inhaled the smoke and fumes from their dragons’ destructive flames. Two White Walkers stepped into his path, cutting him off from facing their king. Both wielded blades of ice that would cut through any of his armor. He needed to be quick and sure-footed if he were to make it. As the foe to his right swung his blade, Jon stepped further to the right, ducking his head as the blade missed his head. His first blow was blocked inches away from the White Walker’s face, sending the opponent backward. The other took his place, bringing his own blade down, straight at Jon’s face.

Before the strike came too close, Jon moved to his left and swung Blackfyre with his left arm low across the ground as he fell to one knee. The White Walker was strong and fast, but a poor judge of Jon’s plans. His leg was left undefended and shattered upon the touch of the Valyrian steel piercing the knee. With little time left to him, Jon rushed through the cloud of dust or icy glass, bringing his sword down upon the unsuspecting foe who first attacked him. _They are surprised to see their own fall so easily. Hopefully hundreds or even thousands fall with those two._

In the time he spent fighting the two White Walkers, his Kingsguard and Robb had managed to catch up with him, now engaged with the remaining White Walkers. He wanted to help Robb and Arthur as they fought formidable opponents, but he knew his duty. Killing them meant nothing as long as the Night King lived and there was nothing standing between him and the one who created them all.

While focused on the Night King thirty feet away, Jon lost a sense of the fighting around him. It was a mistake Ser Arthur and his father would scorn him for. He had made it this far without doing so, but now that he made it, he knew it was going to be his end. Jon could see the spear being thrust in his direction from the corner of his eye. Shifting his weight and twisting in the hope that he would be lucky, Jon tried to avoid the coming deathblow.

The spear never hit him as the White Walker shattered as the others before him. He wasn’t saved by Robb, his Kingsguard, Alyn, Jorah, some northman, or a soldier in his household guard. It was Jaime Lannister who saved his life. The man he wanted killed, but decided to save at Rhaenys’ insistence had saved his life. Visenya had saved his life at Castle Black and now Rhaenys had saved him at Winterfell.

Before he could acknowledge Jaime’s action, the former Kingsguard and his Warden of the West was embroiled in a duel with another White Walker. Jon could return the favor, but duty forced him to do what was required of him. He would leave his men and brothers behind.

Now that he was face to face with the Night King, Jon saw none of his soldiers coming to stop him. It was only him and the other king in Westeros. Jon knew they could end it here. Either he would kill the Night King or he would hold him off enough for Arthur Dayne to kill him. As Jon took a step forward, the Night King shifted his icy blue eyes from him to the sky to Jon’s left.

Confused, Jon looked over his shoulder to find a flock of crows flying above. _Bran._ He knew Bran was trying to bait the Night King to come for him. Jon feared he would be successful and the confrontation would evade him again. What he saw next worried him more. The Night King had never shown any emotion on his face, but Jon thought he saw a hint of dismissal and contempt on his face. Instead of taking the bait, the Night King looked away and continued his march toward Jon after the flock of ravens fell from the sky. _Is Bran dead or did he kill the ravens?_

Closing the distance between one another, Jon lifted Blackfyre to strike the Night King as he heard someone call his name. His Kingsguard wanted to fight alongside him, but there was no turning back as his Valyrian steel sung as it clashed with the ice. The Night King’s blade looked difficult to effectively wield for a man, but he was no man. Like the White Walkers, the Night King did not possess the skill of the greatest warriors Jon knew, but he was faster and stronger than any man he had ever seen.

The foe before him displayed the speed of Arthur Dayne with every parry and the strength of Gregor Clegane with every blow inflicted upon Blackfyre. Jon feigned right and left, striking and blocking. His opponent did not tire and never slowed. Time was against him and Jon searched for the weakness he was failing to see as he moved around, careful to avoid uneven ground.

Only once did he stumble as he swung fruitlessly at the Night King’s torso, hoping to lull him into a false sense of safety with repeated blows that changed little. Jon knew just as he made his move and went for a surprising blow to his opponent’s legs, he had made a mistake. His low angle of attack was blocked with ease.

His confidence was beginning to fade as the battle persisted and the Night King showed no signs of failing. Jon knew it was himself who was close to making a mistake and meeting his end. Forcing himself to push on, Jon returned to his attacks. Again, and again, he struck at the Night King.

Jon swung Blackfyre toward his enemy’s face, torso, arms, legs, and anywhere he thought he might find his chance to end the war. And every time his Valyrian steel was met with ice, he felt another failure. His arms were beginning to tire more and more as his feet were less sure-footed than they were when they began their duel.

_How do I end this? He is too strong. He is too fast. Every move I make is met with ease. A squire would have an easier time bringing down a Kingsguard. There must be a way. I refuse to believe this is our end. I refuse to believe my children will be driven from Westeros._

Jon’s offensive turned into the Night’s King offensive. Jon felt himself being pushed away from his men as the Night King pressed his advantage. Hurried, but controlled blows were coming at him at all possible angles of attack. Jon was losing ground fast and likely being pushed toward wights who could surround him and kill him.

As the Night King hacked away at him, Jon remembered what his father and uncle taught him. They made sure to remind him of his duty to his family and the Realm. They were the men who taught him what was important and what was required of him. _A King or a Prince of House Targaryen serves the Realm just as the lords sworn to him._

All the words his father had said to him rang through his head as he parried blow after blow. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he saw White Walkers approaching from the east coming to surround him as his Queens burned the edge of the battlefield. In that moment when he fixed his gaze upon the Night King again, his Uncle Aemon’s words stuck in his head. _Love is the death of duty._ He knew when he wed Daenerys those words rang true, but now he knew there was another side of that coin his uncle never considered. _Duty is the death of love._ And Jon knew he would never feel their love again.

With all the strength and speed he had within himself, Jon deflected the coming blow with Blackfyre. It was his chance and he took it, knowing there was no other way. There was no going back as he lunged forward with Blackfyre’s tip pointed at the Night King’s heart. Doubt persisted in his heart until he saw the Valyrian steel buried in the Night King’s chest.

Time slowed and he worried as nothing happened until it did. Like the White Walkers before him, the Night King shattered and his remains scattered in the wind as all his army around him crumbled. They had won. The Army of the Dead was defeated and the Seven Kingdoms were saved, only Jon could not hear the cries of victory from the living.

His hands weakened, causing Blackfyre to slip from his grip before his knees buckled. Jon’s back hit the ground, leaving him to stare at the grey northern sky, an all too familiar sight. He could taste the blood in his mouth as more blood spilled from his chest, through his shirt. Lying on the ground, he wished he could feel the pain of the ice blade that struck his chest. The true pain that struck his heart was the memories of his family passing through his thoughts.

He would never know, but he was sure this was the same feeling Aegon had as he died. Jon did not think of the Seven Kingdoms, his victories, or the Iron Throne. He thought of Rhaenys’ beautiful songs and her fiery passion. He remembered his times training with Visenya and listening to her recall the histories she had learned. He remembered raising his sons and watching his daughters play. Jon pictured Daenerys at Summerhall, alone and waiting for him to return to her in the bed of the chambers they would never share.

_I will never see the life she deserved. I will never know what it felt like to be a Prince of Summerhall and Daenerys my Princess. I wanted to serve Aegon. He should have been King. And now I will never see my children grow or my wives’ rule._

The grey skies began to dim and Jon knew his end was near. His greatest regret was not telling his Queens he loved them one more time. He wished he could tell them now, but he did not want them to remember this as their final moments together. _Visenya. Rhaenys. Daenerys. I…._

Jon did not know if he said the words he wanted to or not, but his vision blurred as a shadowed figure came to his side, shaking him. It did not matter as his body went from feeling cold to a numbing feeling. His watch had ended and he would never see the family he wished to see again.

 

 

**Daenerys Targaryen**

The dragons had burnt all they could. Walls of fire surrounded the battlefield, preventing any retreat. Lines of dragonflame and charred ground zigged and zagged on the eastern half of the battlefield, evidence of Rhaenys’ path of destruction. Visenya did the same as her sister, only Silverclaw and the other dragons burned the ramparts shielding the godswood and the dead who broke through the army of the Reach.

Daenerys’ eyes frantically searched for a target for Drogon to attack. Her efforts were fruitless for there was nothing to be done. The Dead were everywhere, but so were the living. She did not regret flying back to Winterfell, but she was again wracked by a sense of uselessness. She was the Mother of Dragons, but could do nothing to help win the battle.

Resigned to flying circles over the battle outside Winterfell, Daenerys needed to find Jon, but could not see him. Chaos ensued after she attempted to kill the Night King and she lost all reference of where Jon was. She could not see him or the seven Kingsguard who were by his side to protect him. _Where is he?_

Hoping Visenya had found him, Daenerys looked to her left. Visenya could see what she was asking, but she knew just as much as she did with the shake of her head. Daenerys was ready to return to her search as they passed over the Great Keep until Visenya pointed to the battlefield before her gaze shifted to the ground below.

Following Visenya’s pointed finger, Daenerys looked down at the battlefield as cheers rang through the air. All of the wights were dead, lying on the ground. The fighting was done and they had won. _Jon did it. He did it._

Perhaps even more determined than before, she broke off from their formation, leaving Visenya and Rhaenys to their own search. Drogon carried her over the grounds beyond the North Gate, near the far reaches of the battlefield. Thousands of their soldiers were celebrating with one another below, even with the thousands of dead still lying on the ground. She wondered how many they lost as she searched for Jon. Daenerys prayed they did not lose any family or close friends in the battle, even if it was highly unlikely. She still held onto hope.

It was finally Vermithrex who clued her to Jon’s location. The dark grey dragon was circling over the same position on the field below, several hundred yards from the North Gate. She was quick to urge Drogon to an empty opening nearby, a few hundred feet from where she caught sight of the Kingsguard walking together amongst what looked like soldiers from the North and the occasional Targaryen household guard.

Motionless remains of the wights littered the ground, but Drogon did not care and followed her command. As soon as he landed, shaking the ground beneath him, Daenerys slid down his scales as quickly as she could. Careful not to trip over the corpses all around her, she minded her footing as she walked toward the masses of men cheering and celebrating the victory.

Men cheered her name as she passed, declaring her their Queen and celebrating what the dragons had done. The Westerosi could not understand, but she appreciated the vows and praise her Dothraki riders sung as she made her way through. She appreciated their loyalty and praise, but all she cared for in the moment was finding her husband and King. Daenerys did her best to acknowledge every soldier she passed while her eyes darted back and forth looking for the Kingsguard she thought she saw.

Vermithrex was still flying overhead and his continued flight told her she was close. Several dutiful members of her guard hurried to her side, knowing they still needed to protect their Queen. Daenerys did not say anything, but she felt this was the safest she had ever been in her life. Everyone left standing was united by a common cause and they had won, against an evil so terrible the fate of the Seven Kingdoms rested in every man’s hands.

Her guards were managing to part the path ahead until she finally caught sight of the backs of six of their Kingsguard. Each of them stood shoulder to shoulder in a semi-circle with their swords sheathed and their helms removed. Without seeing their faces, she could sense they had seen some of the worst of the fighting by the way they stood. _Where is Jon and Arthur?_

Before she could reach the Kingsguard, Ser Oswell Whent turned around to face her. Her heart sank as the smile on her face disappeared. Daenerys could feel the lump forming in her throat while her chin began to quiver. She knew the look in Oswell’s eyes as unshed tears could be seen in the Kingsguard. _No. Do not tell me this. No._

“Your Grace…,” Oswell barely managed to speak, attempting to stop her as she pushed her way through him and Ser Barristan Selmy.

Tears were falling down her face the moment her eyes saw Arthur kneeling over Jon’s lifeless body. She had never seen Ser Arthur Dayne cry until now, but Daenerys did not care about Arthur Dayne. Jon was lying dead with blood covering his chest from a wound to his heart. She could see the Night King had struck him. Jon’s gorget was twisted and broken along the edge covering his heart.

Everything went silent as she began to scream and sob, rushing to her husband. The moment she hit the ground, she was shaking him, refusing to let him be dead. At first, she didn’t even know what she was saying or if she was saying anything. Her eyes could not leave his face that was motionless as she begged him to wake up.

“Jon….No…You cannot leave me. Return to me! You promised….You promised,” Daenerys sobbed as she could barely see through her tears. _Why? Why is he taken from me? He was good and he was true and he is dead. Why?_

“No, no, no, no,” she repeated as she cradled his head in her lap. Again, and again, she would look down at his face before resting her brow against his as they always did when it was just them, alone and intimate. Part of her prayed she would feel the warmth and fire of a dragon return to him. He only grew colder and in return, so did her soul. _I have no purpose without him. What am I without Jon? We were supposed to grow old together. You promised!_

Daenerys felt utterly and completely alone for the first time in her life. Jon was always there, since they were children. Even when he was of the age where he may have distanced himself from her, he stayed close. He was always her love and she his. She did not know what life was like without him. _There is nothing without you. Stay with me. Please!_

“Noooo!” Daenerys heard the most horrific screams she could ever recall. Their screams only made things worse, reminding her this was all real. She wasn’t in a nightmare, stuck in her bed on Dragonstone clinging to his warmth. She was in the North, outside Winterfell, holding Jon with heavy grief and pain that would never go away. Daenerys did not bother to look back because she knew it would frighten her even more to see Rhaenys’ and Visenya’s faces. She would be looking at herself and how she reacted.

“Jon…You can’t…my Jon,” Visenya pleaded through her tears for their husband to wake up as Daenerys still cradled his head, not wanting to let him go. Rhaenys and Visenya were on the ground, on either side of him, hoping this was not real. They shared in her sobs and tears, barely managing to speak sensical words.

“Our children! You cannot leave us. You were a good father. Jon, please, please…,” Rhaenys pleaded with her brow now resting against his. Daenerys wanted to say something to make it better, but any words would just be lies. It wasn’t going to get better and they knew it just as well as she did.

Visenya’s reaction scared Daenerys even more than Rhaenys’ pleas and sobs. Visenya just stared down with a trembling face with a look of defeat she had never seen in her before. It looked like all signs of life and warmth had left Visenya and she was dead on the inside. Daenerys understood because half of her died with Jon. Part of her wanted to jump off the highest cliff on Dragonstone and let the waves take her, but there was still a part of her holding her back. It was the half that was a mother to their children. Even the part of her that wanted to end things was also the part that told her Jon would not want it. She needed to be as strong as he was. _How will I tell our children?_

Thinking of their children only increased the pain and her sobs. Her sons wanted to be like their father and her daughters had him wrapped around their finger. This would devastate them. Almost as bad as the pain it would bring them would be the idea that several of their children would not even remember him. He would just be a name and a memory to those who knew him. Daenerys felt lucky that her father died before she was born, but Jon was not her father.

Daenerys had lost track of how long she had held him. She realized she had been crying for so long she no longer had any more tears to shed. Instead of feeling warmed by Jon’s presence, she now felt as cold as his skin. She did not want to move. All she wanted to do was stay there and look upon his face with Rhaenys and Visenya. She wanted to remember everything, all the love and good he brought into their life. Daenerys wished to commit it all to memory and never forget, but all she could see was Jon lying in her arms, bloodied and pale.

“My Queens, please…,” Ser Barristan bravely decided to be the first one to speak, attempting to remove them from the battlefield. Daenerys wanted to shout and curse him. She wanted to blame him and everyone else for Jon’s death, but she did not have the will. She wanted to curse Barristan for asking her to let him go. _If I let you go, you will be gone forever. You are mine and I am yours, forever._

“I…I can’t….I can’t,” Daenerys protested through her sobs with a trembling voice. She wanted to stay there until the winter snows came and buried her with Jon. As she looked down on Jon, Daenerys ran her fingers through his beard, remembering what it felt like against her skin whenever he kissed her. Robb Stark stepped in to assist Visenya to her feet as she remained speechless. Daenerys only knew she was still near by the sound of her sobs against Robb Stark’s chest.

“Your Grace,” Ser Jorah laid a gentle hand on her arm. It wasn’t his words, but the way he said them and the true sorrow she felt from him, that led her to oblige. With his assistance, Daenerys let go of Jon, despite how much it hurt. Her eyes did not leave him as she backed away while Rhaenys still clung to his body.

“Rhaenys, please,” she heard Jaime Lannister plead, kneeling behind Rhaenys with his hands gently pulling her upper arms back to him.

“No. No. No!” Rhaenys’ refusal turned into a scream as Jaime forced her away from Jon’s body. Rhaenys’ eyes were red and full of rage. Her cheeks were covered in tears and Daenerys thought Rhaenys was ready to pull a dagger and stab Jaime for what he had done. Instead, Rhaenys slammed his breastplate with her fists several times before collapsing into his arms.

“Ser Jorah, please…,” Daenerys mumbled, unable to say the words and give any commands.

“We will take care of him my Queen,” Jorah promised her as several dozen Unsullied and Targaryen soldiers appeared with a cart to carry Jon inside Winterfell. She had seen these carts ferry the wounded and dead from many battlefields, but Daenerys never thought she would see her love be taken away on one. Jon was a dragonlord and the greatest swordsman to ever live. _How? How did this happen?_

All Daenerys could do was watch as the Unsullied attempted to lift Jon off the ground, only to be refused by Ser Arthur and the Kingsguard. The Sword of the Morning was not going to let anyone else handle Jon’s corpse. Jon was the closest thing he had to a son and Daenerys thought he should be the one to do it.

“The children. My family…,” she started, only to be interrupted by Ser Jorah again.

“We have sent riders down the Kingsroad,” he informed her. Afraid for them finding out from a stranger, Daenerys wanted to protest until Ser Jorah spoke up again. “They have been given strict orders to tell them of the victory and to bring them back. They do not know about the King.”

“I can walk from here Jorah,” she said, leading him to ease his grip on her arms. _I think I can._ Daenerys knew her loyal advisor and friend worried for her, but he trusted her and let her walk without assistance.

She did not feel like a Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea or a Dragon Queen that instilled fear in her enemies and respect from her subjects. Inside, he felt like a lost woman, weak and defeated. Jon was her strength who made her what she had become. _Now they will all see me for who I truly am without him._

Daenerys followed the cart carrying Jon’s body away toward the North Gate. The Unsullied lined their path, clearing the way so their journey was not hindered. Where they went, the cheers and joy of victory disappeared. Thousands lined their path, looking on at the King who had given his life to save them all. Daenerys did not bother to look at any of them. Her eyes did not leave Jon’s face, even when Rhaenys and Visenya came to walk beside her.

In all her years as a Queen, she effortlessly put on the queenly façade that was expected of her when she stood before their armies or received their subjects. Now, she did not care about any of that. Daenerys did not care about the Realm, their armies, the smallfolk, none of it. _I want to hear his voice again. I want to see those rare laughs. I already miss your smiles you saved just for me. Damn you. We should have fled across the Narrow Sea. We could have stayed._

Again, she was crying as they slowly made their way to the open gate as the dragons began to scream across the sky. _They know he is gone. They know our pain. They feel it too._

The entire courtyard was silent as a crypt when they entered. Daenerys was sure the only thing that could be heard were her soft sobs or the rattling of the cart carrying Jon to the Great Keep. She did not know why, but the sound of feet running through the muddy yard finally pulled her gaze away from Jon. Her eyes lifted to see Arya Stark running from the godswood. She looked like she had seen heavy fighting with her hair a mess, and dirt and blood covering her face.

For a second time, Daenerys was forced to see a face filled with relief and joy turn to utter horror. Never had she seen Arya Stark cry. The little girl she knew was always too proud and too brave to let anyone see her cry. The years only made her harder and more stubborn. In seconds, all of her walls and guard were thrown away. Arya froze, not moving an inch as the moved past her with Jon’s body. Daenerys did not have the strength to comfort the girl or help her fight off the tears. Her own grief was too much for herself.

 

It could have been minutes or it could have been hours. Daenerys lost any sense of time after entering their solar inside the Great Keep. Their Kingsguard placed Jon on a table that was carried into the room. Someone had brought her a chair to sit in and she had not moved since. Her eyes hadn’t left his face as she tried to tell herself this was not real.

“It isn’t fair,” Visenya mumbled, sitting across the table with Rhaenys beside her. Daenerys was not brave enough to run her hands along Jon’s hair as Visenya was doing. When the men laid him at rest on the table, she held his lifeless, cold hand as long as she could until it made her sick. His hand no longer felt like his hand and it made it all the more real. Visenya repeated herself again, “It isn’t fair.”

“He’s never going to see…,” Rhaenys whispered before her voice failed her. Daenerys knew she was referring to the babes growing in her womb. She could see Rhaenys’ eyes fall down to her belly with more tears pouring out. _This isn’t fair. Jon will never see the babes and they will never know what it feels like to have a father. This can’t be. It can’t._

“What are we going to tell them?” Visenya asked with the same tremble still lingering in her throat.

“I don’t know,” Daenerys replied. _Do we tell them he was brave and saved the Realm? Are they too young to understand? Rhaegar and Arya know what death means, but my other children? I don’t know. What do we do?_

“I am sorry my love. You deserved to see your children. You deserved so much more,” Rhaenys said, standing up to place a soft peck on Jon’s lips. As Rhaenys withdrew, Daenerys could see her chin quiver. “I love you. I hope you know that. You gave me everything and more. The life I never knew I wanted. Please know I loved you more than anything in this world.”

Rhaenys’ whispers hurt because it reminded her of the doubt that weighed on Jon during their time in the Bay of Dragons. She knew Jon loved Rhaenys, but he feared he would never give Rhaenys the same feeling Aegon did. Rhaenys confessed similar fears to Daenerys, scared she did not truly show the love she felt for Jon. Daenerys knew she had come to love Jon as much as she loved Aegon and more.

After Rhaenys finished telling him how much she had loved him and would miss him, Visenya began to whisper something to him. Daenerys kept her silence. It was not because she wanted to keep her words private, but because her voice would likely falter again. Daenerys wanted to say so much but did not want to say it just yet. She did not want to say goodbye to their best days until she had to.

Hearing voices outside their solar, Daenerys finally mustered the courage to look away and twist in her seat to find Robb Stark looking in. Their Kingsguard were in the solar, but kept their distance and let them grieve for Jon by themselves. Behind Robb, she could see Davos Seaworth speaking with Stannis Baratheon, members of the Small Council, and various commanders of their armies.

Daenerys did not want to do anything but sit there and mourn for the only man who would ever hold her heart. She did not want to be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms anymore. _I just want to be your wife. I want you to hold me in your arms again. I want us back._

She could hear Robb’s footsteps across the stone floor and Daenerys asked herself what Jon would do. _He would follow his duty. My love followed his duty until the end._ Daenerys never felt heavier than she did in that moment as she tore herself from Jon’s corpse and met Robb Stark halfway in the solar. Before she could say anything, he wrapped her in a strong hug. She sensed he was trying to tell her everything would be alright. _But it won’t. Jon is gone. He is gone…_

“The lords…I will speak with…,” Daenerys said after finally backing away from Robb’s loving gesture. He was not her blood, but he was like a brother to her. In her time spent at Winterfell, he was as protective of her as his true sisters. Daenerys knew if House Targaryen did not wield the power it did, she could count on Robb’s protection.

“Do not worry about them. Davos and I will handle everything. The Realm is not what matters right now,” Robb said, placing a gentle hand upon her arm. Any other time, she would have protested. She was good at ruling and Jon entrusted many things with her, but Daenerys cared for none of it. Davos, Robb, and their Small Council could be trusted. “I will have a pyre readied for the morrow.”

“Thank you,” she replied, glad he refused to let her speak more and ignore her authority as Queen.

“Is there anything I can do?” Robb asked.

“Let us know when our children arrive. I do not want them seeing me like this,” she said, still scared for how her children would react. Daenerys glanced over her shoulder to see Visenya still filled with shock and horror. “We need to be the ones to tell our family.” _Gods, do not let them hear from the soldiers along the Kingsroad or inside Winterfell._

“I will see it done,” Robb promised her before he turned around to leave the solar, carefully closing the door behind him so as not to make a great deal of noise. The silence was just another reminder of Jon’s passing. The Great Keep should have been filled with the sound of her children’s squeals and laughter. Instead, it was quiet as the crypts below the castle.

“It will never be the same without him,” Visenya stated as Daenerys settled back into her seat. _No, it will not. We will never see the life we dreamed of. That is gone._ “I wanted to see him raise our sons to be great men. I wanted to see him be the overprotective fool he was, watching out for our daughters. I wanted us to wake up with him holding onto us every morning.”

Daenerys wanted the same as Visenya and Rhaenys. They had a dream and now it was gone with him. As Daenerys sat there, she battled her feelings of regret and despair with the warmest memories she could call on. She wanted to remember the good and smile at all the joy and happiness Jon brought her. In reality, the depression, fear, anger, emptiness, despair, and hurt overcame it all. _He was stolen from me. I love him more than anything in this world and he is gone. What is next? What is a life without Jon in it?_

 

Hours had passed and the light filtering through the windows of their solar was long gone. Daenerys felt empty and exhausted, barely sparing a word for anyone. In the hours since Robb left them, she hadn’t spoken to a soul, spare Visenya and Rhaenys. And when they did speak with one another, it was regarding Jon and every time they did so, they came to regret it. Every cherished and shared memory was a cruel reminder of what they had.

Daenerys wanted to cry the entire time, but her eyes had no more tears left to shed. The lump that formed in her throat when she first saw him lying in the snow was still there. Her heart ached for his love and affection. Knowing she would never have that again, she suspected she would feel like this until the end of her days.

As time passed, Daenerys realized those who said loss becomes easier with time were fools. The longer she had to feel what it was like to never be with him again, the hurt only increased. Jon consumed her thoughts and made her oblivious to the outside world. The only thing that ever stole her attention were the occasional cries of the dragons flying over Winterfell. _They feel it too. They feel the loss. They do not know a world without him as do I._

“Your Graces…Your Graces,” Daenerys finally heard the voice of Ser Barristan Selmy. Twisting in her seat, taking her eyes off Jon for the first time in hours, she found the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard standing before her with an apologetic look. She could see the regret in his eyes. He swore to protect Jon and not fail him as he did her brother. _He did not fail either. Jon would tell him that. I know it._

“Yes?” she let out, failing to acknowledge his title, name, or say anything more.

“They are here, my Queen. I can…,” Ser Barristan replied until she stood from her chair.

“No, I must be the one to tell them. They must hear it from family,” Daenerys said, knowing very well they may have learned of Jon’s passing already. _My poor children, please do not let it be so. Do not let them hear of this. Not like that._ Before moving to follow the Lord Commander’s footsteps, Daenerys turned to Visenya and Rhaenys, “Stay with our husband. I do not want…”

“Are you sure?” Rhaenys asked in a ghostly tone. Hearing her speak was like taking another dagger to her heart. Rhaenys was always full of life and passion. Her voice could be beautiful when she sang her favorite songs or seductive when she wanted things to go her way for a night. All of what made Rhaenys who she is seemed gone now to Daenerys’ ears. _She lost Aegon and it nearly destroyed her. Jon helped her find that love and more and now he has been taken away as well. I could not endure that. I have only had him and it is too much._

“Yes,” she responded after Rhaenys waited for an answer. _I can now hear it in my own voice. Each of us are lost. Parts of us have been taken and there is nothing that can bring that back._

Not long after she stood outside the chambers, waiting for their family to arrive, she heard the familiar sound of her children’s voices. For the first time in her life, her children’s cheer brought her pain and suffering instead of joy and warmth. _I cannot do this. What does a mother tell her children?_

“Mother!” Senya and Eddard yelled, running down hallway to meet her, crashing into her legs. Normally, she would have knelt to truly embrace her loving children, but she knew if she truly looked them in the eyes, she would break. _I need to remain strong for them._

“I’ve missed you my sweetlings,” she answered, running her hands through Eddard’s raven curls and Visenya’s silver mane. Both looked so much like herself and Jon when they were just children, she forced her eyes away from them. She felt like the world’s worst mother in that moment and would never forgive herself. She would also never forgive herself if she broke down in front of them now and delivered the news of their father’s death like this.

When her eyes lifted from her son and daughter, she found Lyanna Stark walking with several of the children around her. Daenerys’ mind raced to come up with the right words until she saw the life drain from Lyanna’s face the moment they locked eyes. Lyanna could see the suffering on her face and Daenerys felt herself only getting weaker as Lyanna fought away her own tears. _I am sorry._

“Children, follow Missandei and Vithi to your rooms,” Daenerys instructed the little princes and princesses as she saw her good friend and loyal handmaiden both stepping forward with babes in their arms. Daenerys wanted to hold her youngest, but reminded herself she did not want the babes to drown in her misery.

“But mother, I want to…,” Arya tried to protest, bypassing all her siblings, trying to push her way past Daenerys and into the solar. Daenerys made sure to stop her, yanking on her eldest daughter’s arm stronger than she ever had before. She felt immediate regret, seeing the hurt on her daughter’s face, but Daenerys would not let her see her father lying dead.

“Listen to me for once, Arya. Please!” Daenerys pleaded, praying for once her willful princess would be more like her little sister.

“Come on little one, listen to your mother. I’ll let you hold Needle if you are careful,” Arya Stark came forward, causing her namesake’s brow to furrow. Daenerys’ firstborn was skeptical of her aunt, considering the stories she had been told of the girl she was named for. Their brief time together since King’s Landing only reinforced Arya’s admiration for Arya Stark.

With a simple nod, Arya followed her aunt down the corridor to the room Missandei led the handmaidens into. Daenerys was careful to make sure all the children had been taken away before she turned to Lyanna again, this time finding Elia Martell, Ashara Dayne, and her mother with her. Each of them knew without having been told. Daenerys hoped her children were not as observant.

“Where is he?” Lyanna asked as her voice began to falter. Daenerys had never seen Jon’s mother like this. She was always the willful and strong Shewolf of Winterfell. The woman standing before her now was just like any other grieving mother who had just learned the death of her son.

“He…,” Daenerys tried to speak, but failed, feeling the tears fall down again. She wanted to collapse, infected by the sorrow painted on Lyanna and Elia’s faces. The only thing keeping her on her feet was the comfort of her mother’s arms propping her up. “He’s gone.”

Daenerys was sobbing again, wishing there was a way to take it all back. She thought she had expelled all the tears she had to offer, but she was wrong. If the sorrow and grief painted on Lyanna’s face did this to her, she feared what would happen when her children learned of Jon.

“I am sorry,” she heard her mother’s whisper. When she felt like she could stand on her own again, her mother ran a caring hand along her back as Lyanna Stark entered the solar with Elia Martell and Ashara Dayne right behind her. It took a moment and her mother’s assuring words before she returned to the solar. “You will get through this. We all will. We must, for the children.”

“My boy, my son,” Daenerys saw Lyanna crying over Jon’s lifeless body, clutching his leather armor. Lyanna began to curse and rage for Jon being taken from them. Her eyes and face were red with tears falling down her cheeks.

Elia stood next to Lyanna, just as devastated, but only her sobs could be heard. Elia had no words, only disbelief and grief tearing her down. Daenerys was grateful Ashara was there to comfort Lyanna and Elia, but she realized she was nearly as devastated as her friends. Ashara was practically an aunt to Jon and herself. Daenerys considered Ashara family and she knew Ashara felt the same.

“He didn’t deserve this, not this. My son… Why? Why?” Lyanna sobbed as Daenerys was escorted to the chair she had abandoned. Her mother eased her down as if she was a frail lady of seventy years and not a Queen of nearly twenty-two. Daenerys kept her eyes closed, hoping she would wake from the terrible nightmare, only to open them to the truth in front of her. Visenya and Rhaenys returned to tears, unable to bear their mothers’ grief added to their own.

Again, staring at Jon’s face as she had been all day, Daenerys felt her mother’s fingers intertwined over her own. Her mother had taken a seat next to her and squeezed her left hand, letting her know they would get through this. _She thinks I am brave and strong. I am not. That was Jon, not me._

Daenerys could hear soft sniffles next to Rhaenys and lifted her gaze to find Allyria mourning for her cousin. In truth, Jon was closer to a brother than cousin. Allyria was raised beside them and treated as a member of House Targaryen. Aegon and Jon were the only brothers she knew for most of her life. Allyria did not love Jon as they did, but she loved him as a sister loves a brother.

“He deserved more, so much more. He was a great King, a better son, and an even greater father,” Elia said, shaking her head with a defeated face.

“First Rhaegar and Aegon. Now Jon?” Lyanna added. Daenerys was unsure if she was speaking to them all or just herself. Lyanna looked lost in her own despair. Elia’s attempts at comfort seemed lost on Lyanna. The northern mother seemed intent on not letting Jon go until Ashara and Elia both eased her away, whispering something into her ear. Daenerys wanted to tell them to let Lyanna grieve in her own way, remembering how she clung to Jon for hours before they arrived. It was only Lyanna’s willing retreat that kept her from saying anything.

A half hour slipped through her fingers before Daenerys realized she had never considered her mother’s feelings. Her mother had lost a son and grandson to Viserys’ treachery. Now she had lost the other grandson to a faceless enemy she had never seen. Daenerys cursed herself, letting her mother be her strength. _Who serves as her strength? She has no one to lean on._

“I am sorry mother,” she nearly whispered as she saw Visenya still resting her head against Lyanna Stark’s shoulder.

“For what?” her mother asked, looking down at her with inquisitive amethyst eyes, much like her own.

“You have been looking after me this entire time and I haven’t tried to comfort you at all. Jon was your grandson and no one has attempted to comfort you. I should have. I…,” Daenerys tried her apology, only to be cut off by her mother’s firm squeeze on her left hand resting on the arm of her chair.

“Shhh….You are the best daughter a mother could ask for. I lost a grandson, but you lost your husband. Your love and the father of your children. I love Jon, but it pales in comparison to what you shared with him. Never apologize. Never, Daenerys. He was good and he was the best of us. I always knew, even when he was a child, he always knew right from wrong. And he always followed his duty, always. The only time he didn’t follow his duty was for you. He loved you so much. He would have done anything for you. He was a great King and died to save his people, but I know my grandson. He fought for more than realms and men and crowns. He fought for Visenya and Rhaenys. He fought for his sons and daughters. He fought for his family. He fought for you,” her mother told her, causing her chin to quiver and the ever-present lump in her throat to weigh even more.

“I didn’t want him to,” Daenerys replied, sniffling away her sobs. “Not like this. It wasn’t worth it.”

“We both knew Jon. He would disagree,” her mother answered. _Because he is a fool…my fool._

 

She could hear the footsteps and the armor of the Kingsguard behind her. When the door to the solar opened, Daenerys prayed they would just go away. _I am still not ready to deal with everything. I do not want to be the Queen._ When the footsteps came to a halt, Daenerys followed Rhaenys’ and Visenya’s gazes behind her to find Ser Barristan Selmy. Apprehensively, he started, “Your Graces, Lord Davos Seaworth is asking us to bid Lady Melisandre entry.”

“What?” Visenya asked, angered by the mere mention of the red priestess from Asshai. _Why does Davos want her here?_

“I will send her away your Grace,” Ser Barristan replied, turning for the door in his armor that still showed signs of battle.

“You will do no such thing. Send her in,” Lyanna Stark said, stopping the Kingsguard in his tracks. Daenerys could see the confusion on the old knight’s face. He looked to Lyanna, then herself, wondering if they would permit Lyanna’s command. Daenerys nodded her heard, just wanting to be left alone and avoid any argument.

Davos Seaworth was the first to step in after Barristan Selmy permitted their Hand entry. Daenerys found his mood puzzling. She had expected the old man to have a similar reaction to their family or Kingsguard. Davos always liked Jon and seemed like a man who would follow where ever his King went. Behind the Onion Knight, she finally caught Melisandre passing through the doorway shortly before Oswell Whent closed the room to the outside world.

“Why are you here?” Visenya asked with a venomous tone that told Melisandre she was not welcome by everyone.

“I am here because our Lord wills it. Our King is the Prince Who Was Promised and you are the Princesses Who Were Promised. I am here to serve you,” Melisandre answered, staring at Jon’s lifeless body behind her. Daenerys still did not understand why she was here or why she was still looking at Jon.

“You told me my son was your Lord’s champion. You say he is the Prince Who Was Promised. Tell me then, why is my son dead? Tell me, where is your god now?” Lyanna raged, clinching her fists as if she was preparing to assault the red priestess.

“I told you we all have a purpose, my Queen. I told you your son would face death and sacrifices would be made. He knew it was the only way,” Melisandre responded in the same cold manner she always conveyed.

“The only way? His death was the only way?” Lyanna responded.

“What if there is a way to bring him back?” Davos cut in, sounding impatient to listen to any further bickering.

“A way to bring him back?” Allyria questioned, seated next to Rhaenys, who looked angered by Melisandre’s presence.

“It has been done before,” Melisandre replied, reminding Daenerys of the stories she had heard of Lord Beric Dondarrion. Jon mentioned he had been killed several times and the Lightning Lord even looked it, but she dismissed such gossip as tales from the Riverlands.

“Thoros…,” Visenya mumbled behind her, nearly low enough for no one else to hear.

“Take her away Ser Barristan. We will not have Jon’s body and memory desecrated by this witch,” Elia Martell ordered the Lord Commander. Daenerys did not know why, but her heart was warning her to stop this. _We have to try. I cannot live without him. We have to…_

“No,” Daenerys spoke up, causing Ser Barristan to turnaround before he could drag the red priestess out of the room. She could see he disagreed, but she did not care. All she cared for was Jon being returned to her.

“Daenerys, you can’t,” her mother plead as she stood to walk toward Lady Melisandre. Daenerys could sense her mother wanted to say more, but held her tongue when Daenerys gave her a look she had never given her mother before. It was the face she shared for advisors and commanders who tested her authority.

“I can and I will. I am the Queen and Jon is my King,” she warned her mother, surprising herself for her lack of remorse for how she had just spoken to her mother. Finished with her mother, she resumed her approach toward the priestess standing between the Hand and the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. “You say you can bring him back? Save him.”

Melisandre inched forward, only to be stopped by Daenerys stepping in her path. Daenerys looked the priestess in the eyes, searching for some hidden motive or evil purpose at work. She could never tell with the priestess. The woman had never earned her trust before, but Daenerys was desperate. The idea of Jon returning to her felt too good. Not letting her continue without a warning, Daenerys continued, “Betray us and I will burn you alive.”

“Death by fire is the purest death, my Queen,” Melisandre said, sounding as if she invited the fate. Stepping toward the table Jon was placed on, Melisandre continued, “But I will not die. Not here, in Winterfell. We need to get rid of his clothes. He needs to be cleaned.”

“We will help,” Ser Arthur stepped forward, volunteering to assist the priestess. Daenerys did not realize the Sword of the Morning was in the solar. She had thought he was standing guard outside their quarters with the other Kingsguard.

“No, we will do it,” Rhaenys said, standing over Jon with a hand gently gliding over his leather armor until it began to tremble near the mangled gorget.

“Let us give them their privacy,” Ashara Dayne said, gesturing for everyone to leave. Daenerys was grateful someone other than herself spoke up. She was not prepared to see Jon’s injuries with more than Rhaenys and Visenya present.

They waited until it was just the three of them and Jon left in the solar. Daenerys thought they were alone until she spotted their direwolves who had snuck their way into the quarters. For once, Ghost was making a sound. Instead of an angry growl and a proud howl, Jon’s direwolf let out soft cries. _He knows._

“I’ll gather the water and cloth,” Rhaenys declared. Daenerys hated it, but she finally began to place her hands on Jon again, carefully removing the disfigured gorget from his shoulders while Visenya started with his leather boots. After the gorget was removed, Daenerys proceeded to his belt and leather armor. It pained her every time she was forced to lift an arm or move his torso. The hardest was the chainmail and the shirts underneath.

After Visenya managed to remove his breeches and smallclothes, she assisted Daenerys with the removal of his final shirt, revealing the hideous open wound over his heart. Daenerys shuddered at the sight, almost unable to continue. She felt immediate guilt having previously voiced her admiration for the faint scars near his eyes from Castle Black. They were not life-threatening nor disfiguring. She always thought they made him look like a hardened warrior and somehow, made him look more like himself. Now, all she saw was ugliness. _It is ugly. Jon…my poor love._

Seeing enough of the wound that killed her husband, Daenerys lifted her eyes to a trembling Visenya. Visenya had killed men and fought in a gruesome battle. Blood and death never shook her, but the cut over Jon’s heart shook her. Daenerys thought she looked ready to empty her stomach at the sight.

Seeing they were finished, Rhaenys placed a wet cloth in her hand and Daenerys knew she had to push through whatever pain she had. She needed to cling to the hope that this would work and this was the reason they allowed Melisandre into their service. With each scrub, Daenerys prayed for Jon’s return. She wanted to feel his arms around her again while he told her how much he loved her.

Cleaning the grime and blood off his arms and face was the easy part. The worst came when she was forced to clean the blood on his chest near the wound. Visenya was there to help her, despite her eyes barely stomaching the sight before them. _She always thought you were invincible as I did._

Their work was conducted in silence as they made sure there was not a trace of blood or dirt to be found on his cold, pale skin. Rhaenys was careful to examine every inch of skin, making sure they had done everything they could before placing a cloth over his cock. They wanted him to be treated with the respect a King deserved, even if they did not know what Melisandre’s ritual would involve.

When they were finished and called for Melisandre to return, so did the rest of their family. Daenerys could see looks of doubt, hope, and confusion amongst all their faces. Arya Stark looked hopeful while Robb looked skeptical next to Margaery. Sansa and Allyria just looked sad as they stood by their husbands. Davos and their original Kingsguard were the only people in the room who were not tied to House Targaryen by blood or marriage. Daenerys did not care to read their faces, having only spared a quick glance for the family that had entered before them.

Once everyone was gathered and Melisandre lit a fire in an unused brazier near the table, the red priestess moved toward Jon, taking strands of his raven curls in hand. Daenerys did not understand what she was doing until she saw the clippers in Melisandre’s hands. Slowly, the priestess began to cut short strands of hair.

“We ask the Lord to shine his light, and lead a soul out darkness. We beg the Lord to share his fire, and light a candle that has gone out. From darkness, light. From ashes, fire. From death, life,” Melisandre prayed in High Valyrian, repeating the prayer over and over as she cut Jon’s hair. Three times, she dropped strands of hair into the fire of the lit brazier.

Continuing her prayer with more words Daenerys did not care to listen to, Melisandre took a pitcher of water and doused Jon’s head with water. With every line of prayer and every drop of water, Daenerys found her heart begging for him to wake. She was letting hope build and build until she was sure he would return to her. _Come on Jon, come back. You promised me. You promised…_

Again, and again, Melisandre repeated her prayer to the Lord of Light in High Valyrian. Daenerys was hoping there was more to Melisandre’s ritual after the water had been poured onto Jon, but she soon came to realize there was nothing more. The priestess was repeating herself and her prayers were only sounding more desperate. The wavering of confidence in Melisandre’s voice pained Daenerys. She had let herself grasp onto any hope of bringing Jon back and was scared the impossible would not happen.

Silence consumed the room and tortured her ears as she waited for the fire inside Jon to be lit again. Nothing happened and the little hope the others shared faded away as she heard the first footsteps to leave the room. One by one, their family and loyal friends left the solar. With each retreat, Daenerys felt her life crumble a little more.

Her mother, Elia, and Lyanna were the last to leave. Each begged them to find their bed and sleep, but Daenerys could not leave Jon. _Not yet._ Visenya and Rhaenys remained, clinging to the same hope Daenerys held. It was too hard to face the truth. She refused to face it or admit it.

It may have been another hour before Rhaenys and Visenya left Jon’s side. Silver and Shadow followed them to the bedchambers, surely to keep them company. Daenerys was the only one remaining by Jon’s side with Ghost and Snow laying at her feet. She hated the feeling of his cold skin, but she found herself running her hand along his jawline to his cheekbones and eventually along his raven hair.

“Do you remember when we first kissed? You told me how beautiful I was and how much you loved me. Gods, it seems so long ago. I knew I could not live without you then. Even before, when you left Castle Black. I wanted to run to you and tell you to stay, but I didn’t. I was such a fool. I could have lost you. I can still remember the first time I saw you and you saw me. I can still remember every moment of that night. I remember when we first made love. You were just a prince and I a princess. You were perfect and you showed me how much you loved me. I never said it enough. I love you Jon. I love you. Our children love you. You need to return to them. They look up to you so much. Rhaegar wants to be just like you, the perfect King. Arya wants to learn the sword from you just to anger me,” Daenerys said, laughing through the small tears in her eyes.

“Your children love you. Do not leave them. Do not leave me. I need you more than anything in this world. Visenya and Rhaenys need you. You stayed with me when you wished to go to the Wall. We built a life together. We have the best children in this world. Come back. Grow old, together, with me. We promised each other. I am yours and you are mine. We can still have that dream. We can still return to Summerhall. Take me to that spot on the lake again. Take me to our secret cave behind the waterfall,” Daenerys reminded him, hoping he would hear her.

“Grow old with me, my love. I still need you. We promised to watch our children grow and learn to love. Return to me and we can have it all, together. I want to see you hold our first grandchild and spoil them. Please, Jon! Please! I need you. I can’t…I need you. Return to me. Return to us. Jon, I love you,” Daenerys begged until the tears became too much and the touch of his icy skin pushed her away.

Daenerys felt lost and alone. She still had Rhaenys and Visenya and their children, but it wasn’t enough. The thought filled her with shame, but she needed Jon. He filled a part of her no one else could, even her children. Like a poison slowly drawing the life from her, Daenerys began to accept that he was never coming back. She still hoped, but she was tired and spent.

Never feeling this worn thin in her life, Daenerys did her best to make it to her bedchambers, but failed. Her muscles were weak and her emotions drained. Unable to find her bed, she settled for the space on the floor next to Snow. Seconds after resting against her direwolf’s warm fur, Daenerys’ eyes shut for the night. _I am sorry my love. Jon, I love you._

 

Unsure if she was drawn from her sleep by Snow shifting beside her or some noise outside, Daenerys lifted her head off the white direwolf’s fur. As her eyes fluttered open, she learned embers were all that remained inside the hearth across from her. The solar was still dark and there were no signs of sunrise from the windows. Daenerys was resting her head against her direwolf again, wanting more sleep before she was forced to face her children and explain to them that they had lost their father.

Before she could close her eyes, Daenerys heard a small whimper from the other side of the solar. Ghost was standing across the room, looking toward the table where Jon rested. It pained her to see Jon’s direwolf mourn for his loss alone. Not wanting to be reminded of his passing anymore, Daenerys wanted to find her sleep again until she heard another noise inside the room. She thought she heard someone struggling to gather their breath. Afraid one of her children had snuck into the room, Daenerys panicked and rose to her feet. _Jon….Jon!_

Daenerys’ fear for her children turned to joy and relief when she saw Jon sitting up from the table he was laid upon after the battle. Her heart was beating like a drum as her eyes danced back and forth, making sure she was not dreaming. His skin no longer looked so pale and his chest was rising and falling with every new breath.

Feeling anchored to the ground she stood, Daenerys finally took the first step forward, slowly approaching Jon. He still had not lifted his head from the open wound marking his chest. Daenerys still felt joy but she felt his pain. She could not even contemplate what he must be thinking as she watched his hand slowly rise to touch the edge of the wound. As soon as he touched the mark left by the Night King’s blade, his hand retreated in horror. _Oh Jon…I’m so sorry._

Jon was beginning to panic as his breaths quickened and his eyes looked lost, searching for something familiar. Daenerys rushed across the room to be with him as he stumbled getting off the table. He looked like he would barely be able to walk as Daenerys ran toward him. She did not know if it was fear or confusion that overwhelmed Jon as she collided into his warmth, wrapping her arms around his warm skin.

“I shouldn’t be here,” Jon said in a hoarse voice. Daenerys was scared by the fear, doubt, and sadness she heard in him. She had never heard him like this in her entire life.

“You should. You belong here, with me. I am yours and you are mine, remember?” she told him, finally lifting her cheek off his chest to look up at his storm grey eyes. Daenerys could not remember a happier moment in her life, seeing the raging storms return to his eyes that were empty hours earlier.

“I am yours and you are mine,” he echoed, pulling her back into his embrace. She was never going to let him go until he pushed her away. _I will never let him go again, never._

“I love you,” she whispered against his chest as she savored the feeling of his hard muscles and the sound of his beating heart. It was a sound that she would cherish forever. She swore to herself she would wake every morning to that sound and remember what they had nearly lost. “I love you so much.”

After the words left her lips, Daenerys felt Jon’s strength return to him as he held her closer and kissed her silver mane, which was surely a mess. She basked in his embrace until she heard the soft sobs he tried to fight off. Even after learning of Rhaegar and Aegon’s deaths, Jon was the one who was her rock and gave her the strength to deal with their loss. The tears trickling down Jon’s face now shook her. She could not remember a time she had seen him cry like this. He was always close when she birthed their children, but never like this.

Wanting to be his rock and his strength, Daenerys stood on her toes and sealed her lips with his. She wanted to tell him he was not alone and that he had returned to her. Daenerys guessed she would never know the pain and fear of death, but she would try to. _I need to remind him this is where he belongs. With me. With us._

“I was dead. I thought I was…I thought I would never….,” Jon admitted after breaking away from the searing kiss she never wanted to end. _You never thought you would be with us again._

“You were, but you returned to me. You returned to us,” she said, kissing him again, reminding him of why he needed to live. She swore to herself she would give him the love and life he deserved. “You always promised, my honorable fool.”

“I love you, Dany,” he whispered in his faint northern tilt as his brow rested against hers. Even if they had been wed for several years now, Daenerys still felt her body’s ache for him whenever he told her he loved her. She felt it then as he said the words, but she just wanted to hold him close and never let him go. Daenerys knew in the moment Jon needed her comfort more than anything else. _He was dead. Gods, what did he see? What hurt did he feel? I will heal his wounds. I swear it._

“Where is Visenya and Rhaenys?” he asked with sudden fright, realizing they were not there. Daenerys had somehow forgotten about them and was going to inform him they were just inside their bedchambers before she was interrupted.

“Jon!” Daenerys heard Visenya’s voice over her shoulder. As she turned to face Visenya, a flash of silver hair sped past her and into Jon’s arms, bringing him to the floor. Visenya sounded like she was shedding tears of joy as she attacked Jon’s lips. “I thought I would never see you again. I thought…I thought we would never be together. I love you. I love you so much.”

Before he could respond, Rhaenys was brushing past Daenerys, falling on top of Jon. Daenerys was smiling for the first time in days as both sisters devoured Jon’s plump lips. Just his voice and relieved laughter rekindled the fire in her heart, renewing her faith in the future and herself. _I will never take our time for granted. Every day is a gift with him in it. I will love him more than any Queen has loved her King until the end of my days._

“Never leave me again, never!” she heard Rhaenys demand as she stared down at their husband.

“I swear it, my Queen,” Jon replied as he caressed Rhaenys’ cheek as he always did. Daenerys wondered how long they would still have with him before all of Winterfell learned their King had returned from the dead. Realizing their Kingsguard could hear them at any moment, Daenerys rushed back to their bedchambers to retrieve breeches and a shirt for Jon. He was still nude from Melisandre’s ritual, without a small cloth to keep him somewhat decent.

When Daenerys returned to the solar with his clothes in hand, she found Visenya and Rhaenys aiding his walk to the empty couch across from the hearth. He still looked tired and beaten, but she was just glad there was a hint of a smile on his lips. Before he could sit, she handed his shirt to Rhaenys while she attempted to help him put on the black breeches. Jon was quick to stop her, silently insisting he do it himself. Daenerys felt apprehensive as she let him take the breeches from her hands, afraid he would wear himself thin.

Once Jon was clothed, Daenerys took her place in his lap as he settled on the couch with Visenya and Rhaenys on either side. Having to remind herself again that this was real and not some torturous dream, Daenerys kissed him again, making sure this was her husband and the man she loved since she was just a little girl. It was still him and she savored the moment until guilt seeped into her mind, knowing she had nearly kept him to herself since he came back.

“I told you to go,” he reminded them. She was grateful he was back, but she was not going to apologize for flying to Winterfell to save him.

“And I told you not to be a hero,” she responded, waiting for him to say something. Instead, Jon remained silent and shook his head as he painfully closed his eyes.

“I am no hero,” he said, pulling Rhaenys and Visenya closer.

“But you are,” Visenya argued. “You killed the Night King. You sacrificed everything.”

“The heroes are the ones who died on the battlefield.”

Rhaenys looked ready to protest, but held her tongue, afraid to say the truth. Jon had died on that battlefield. Daenerys did not blame her. She was wary to say it aloud for fear of death taking him again. It wasn’t logical, but Daenerys let it end there. _He will never admit. He is a hero and a great King. He will always name someone else the better swordsman, king, or father, but there is none._

“How long have I been…” he started before his voice faded away.

“The battle ended in the morning. It hasn’t been a day,” Visenya replied, gently kissing his cheek.

“Have you told the children? Are they here?”

“No, they are sleeping in their rooms. We did not tell them. We couldn’t,” Rhaenys admitted.

“I can wake them if you wish to see them,” Daenerys offered, wanting to do anything to make him feel happy and alive again.

“No, let them sleep. I am sure it has been a trying day,” Jon said unconvincingly. She sensed he wanted to hold them more than anything, but she was not going to fight him. “I thought I lost you. I was never going to see your faces again. I was never going to hold you. I was afraid I would never see our children or the babes growing in…”

Jon was breaking down before her with tears running down his face again. Her heart broke for him. Never had she seen him like this and the feeling was not going away, even with the three of them there to comfort him. Daenerys never wanted to see him scared like this again.

“All that matters is you are here, with us. We will take care of you, my love. I swear it, to the old gods and the new. Even to the fire god, I swear it,” Daenerys said, cradling his head against her chest before laying a soft kiss on his head. She wanted to cry with him, but she told herself she would shed no more tears. They were given a second chance and she was going to be the one to comfort him for once.

“What if I am not me any longer? What if I am…,” Jon questioned. She could sense he was afraid death had changed him for the worse somehow.

“You still love me? You still love our children?” Rhaenys asked, earning a nod from him. “Then nothing has changed. You are our husband, our King, and the father of our children. Nothing else matters in this world. All that matters is our love and our family. You do not get to leave us before we grow old and ugly.”

“You could never be ugly,” Jon protested, earning a laugh from Daenerys.

“See? You are still my Jon. My honorable fool,” Rhaenys reminded him, sealing her lips with his. While Daenerys kept her kisses gentle, Rhaenys still kissed him with fiery passion that could always draw blood.

“Aye. I may be a fool, but there is one smart thing I have done,” he argued.

“What is that?” Visenya questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“I married you,” Jon said, looking to each of them. “There are no better women in this world. I am lucky to call you my wives. I worry sometimes that I do not show it enough, that I do not love you enough. You deserve more, so much more.”

“Your love is more than enough. You do not think we know how much you love us? That is what you are afraid of? Listen to me, you have given us everything. This is the life we were supposed to live. I wouldn’t change any of it,” Daenerys said, cupping his jaw with her hands. _The only thing I would change is saving Rhaegar and Aegon and learning to swing a sword so I could kill the Night King before he tried to take you from me._

Daenerys was glad to see her reassuring words had their intended effect, painting a smile on his face. Not wanting to ruin the moment, she said nothing more and just admired her husband. She wanted to spend the rest of her life lost in his storm grey eyes and never let him go. She wanted to protect him as he had protected their family and the Realm.

After losing her sense of time, Daenerys saw Visenya purse her lips, contemplating something she planned to say. The sound of nails scratching against the door to the hallway silenced Visenya and tore Daenerys’ eyes away from Jon. Knowing it had to be one of the direwolves, she stood on her feet to open the door.

Before she could take two steps, she could hear Lyanna Stark commanding Ser Garlan Tyrell to step aside. Almost as soon as the door was pushed open, Zokla burst into the solar, coming to their side to greet Jon. The direwolf was quick to sniff him up and down before attempting to lick his face as Ghost and Snow had done.

“Mother,” she heard Jon greet Lyanna. Daenerys stepped aside for Lyanna to pass, finding Jon standing on his own without their help. Lyanna had tears in her eyes and came to a halt before Jon, looking on in disbelief. Daenerys now knew what Lyanna had felt like when she lost Rhaegar, but she could not claim to understand what she felt when she had lost Jon and Aegon. _Losing a son and husband? I could not bear it. Nearly losing Jon was enough to scar me forever._

“My son…my son,” Lyanna mumbled into his chest after pulling Jon in for a hug. Elia came into the room not long after, joining Lyanna in the embrace.

“Thank the gods you are here,” Elia said, tracing her fingers along his face, making sure this was not a dream or some cruel trick. Daenerys could not blame her since she had worried she was dreaming when she saw Jon breathe again. “You should be in your bed, resting.”

“I am fine,” Jon replied, shaking his head in disagreement. Daenerys wanted to curse him for the lie, knowing he was not alright. She could see he was returning to his ways, putting on the brave face of a strong King to the world. _I only hope he remains true and honest with us. He doesn’t need to put up any walls with us._

“We know when you are lying. We always have known,” Lyanna added, causing Jon to close his eyes in defeat. _He has always been a terrible liar. He never lied to me, but I could tell the few times he lied to others._

“And I always knew you knew,” Jon answered with a small laugh.

“Father!” Daenerys immediately knew it was her eldest and glanced toward the doorway. Arya and Dany were rushing through the solar, past Silver and Shadow, and finally herself to reach Jon. Both of the little princesses were still in their white nightgowns and their hair looked undisturbed. _They have been awake this entire time, waiting._

Daenerys wanted to simmer with anger at their deceit and mischief, but her temper was cooled by the sight of the two girls crashing into Jon’s open arms as he knelt on the ground. Part of her was glad the children stormed their room, hoping their presence would take Jon’s mind off the battle and the pain he suffered.

Right behind the two girls came Nymeria and Senya, followed by their brothers and little sisters. Daenerys wanted to steal him away for a fortnight and keep him to herself, Visenya, and Rhaenys, but this made her just as happy. Whenever Jon shared these moments with their children, the weight of his crown was gone and he was just a father raising his children and watching them grow.

“Did you kill the White Walkers? Are they gone?” Eddard asked as he tried to wrap his small arms around his father. Daenerys worried how Jon would react to their son’s mention of the White Walkers, but he just smirked and ruffled Eddard’s raven curls.

“Yes, they are gone my son,” Jon replied.

“Can we go to the Wolfswood tomorrow?” Rhaegar asked, sitting on the couch next to his twin sister.

“Rhaegar, your father is tired and the snows are too high right now,” Daenerys lied in part. Jon was tired, but she knew he would not refuse their children for too long if they persisted as they usually did. There were still thousands lying dead outside Winterfell that required funeral rites and it would be many days before the battlefield was cleared. There were many other things that would require their attention, but Daenerys’ main concern was Jon. She still did not know how he would be affected.

“In a sennight, we will travel to the Wolfswood. I will show you the stream where we found the direwolves and where I used to hunt with your Uncle Robb,” Jon answered, taking a seat on the couch with Aemon and Daenys in his arms. Daenerys couldn’t fight the smirk on her lips as both children were already falling asleep in their father’s arms.

“Can we fly there?” Arya asked, twisting her eyebrows in the cutest way, Daenerys feared Jon would succumb to their daughter’s request.

“No, we cannot fly there. You are too small,” Jon answered, leading Arya to dip her head in disappointment. “But you can ride there on your pony if you are a good little princess.”

“I will be! I swear!” Arya claimed proudly, basking in her small victory. Daenerys shook her head and took the chair beside the couch with Eddard and Senya crawling up onto her lap.

They listened to their children talk about the journey along the Kingsroad and their plans for the coming days in Winterfell. Eventually, their children grew tired after staying awake halfway through the night and most of them fell asleep. With the assistance of their Kingsguard, Lyanna, and Elia, they carried the sleeping children to their beds down the hall.

With the children tucked in, Daenerys returned to her bedchambers to find a lit hearth to keep them warm in case the heavy furs atop the bed did not. Daenerys swiftly discarded her winter dress and put on a thin chemise, knowing Jon would keep her warm. When she turned around from her wardrobe, Jon was already asleep in the center of the bed. Before the cold could get to her, Daenerys rushed to the bed and slid her way under the furs and into his side. _This is where I belong, at his side. Nowhere else._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is. I know many probably want to see more POVs from the battle but I do not think I do the action sequences the justice they deserve. Jon was also the only major character to die in the chapter. We will learn of more deaths in next chapter. If the bran plot is confusing, he lied on purpose about the dead's arrival & NK's target and knew how the battle would unfold, which will have consequences in the aftermath (Bran will not die, but he will have turned an ally into an enemy). I hope I captured all of Daenerys' emotions and suffering without being repetitive. 
> 
> Again, leave any comments or questions below. Nearly at the end. One more chapter left. Daenerys, Visenya, & Rhaenys POVs planned. Possibly one w/ Jon.


	42. Winter & A Dream of Spring

**Visenya Targaryen**

Princess Alysanne, only ten days old, was bundled in the softest red blanket Visenya could find as she held the babe in her arms. Since Alysanne and her twin sister, Vaella, were born, Visenya had hardly let them out of her sight. Nearing a fortnight, every hour of every day was spent doting upon the babes and their brothers who were born the year before. Visenya was still recovering from childbirth, but she could not complain about the long days and shorter nights. She loved them too much and enjoyed holding them in her arms.

The Army of the Dead were defeated, but winter was still there, waging a war of its own against the people of the North. While not as cruel as the winters of old she had read about, Visenya made sure to sit close to the warm hearth inside Uncle Aemon’s quarters. The room was modest and bare, but she did not care what it looked like. Visenya was just happy to see her uncle holding Vaella in his arms, telling her daughter tales of his little brother, King Aegon V, and Ser Duncan the Tall. While Vaella was very much awake, reaching for her uncle as they sat in the sunlight beaming through the window behind them, Alysanne slept peacefully.

“How is your brother? I have not spoken with him since he returned,” Aemon asked, referring to Jon’s return from a hunt in the Wolfswood led by himself and her cousin Robb. The eldest of their children had become restless enough that she and Rhaenys commanded him to leave and take them on the hunt despite his protests to stay. He had only been gone for two days, but Visenya regretted sending him away the first night he was not in their bed.

“He is doing well. The children have lifted his spirits,” Rhaenys answered, seated next to Uncle Aemon with her youngest daughter, Allyria, in her arms. Like her twin brother, Torrhen, Allyria was a beautiful babe with wisps of her father’s raven hair. While Torrhen inherited Jon’s eyes, Allyria held Rhaenys’ dark amethyst orbs. Visenya’s newborns appeared to have inherited her own classical Valyrian traits.

Visenya could see the disagreement on Elia’s face as Rhaenys omitted much of what Jon had been going through since the battle against the Night King. She knew her sister had told their mothers of Jon’s occasional nightmares and restless nights. _It has gotten better but he has still not found his peace._

Just the thought of Jon’s pain weighed on Visenya’s mind. She wanted him to forget what had happened and look forward to their future and remember the best of times. _I swear it Jon, I will help you fight this. We will do it together._

“I can hear it in your voice, your Grace,” Aemon replied, noticing Rhaenys did not entirely believe her own words. Visenya saw Rhaenys was ready to reply, before Aemon continued, “Do not worry child. I understand. His spirits have lifted since the battle. I sense it every time we speak. Jon is a great King, but he will need each of you to help him. He must not carry the weight of the crown alone.”

“He won’t,” Visenya promised before leaning down to kiss Alysanne’s brow as she began to stir in her arms.

“Daenerys tells me there is to be a wedding in the godswood tonight,” Aemon said.

“Yes. Arya Stark is to wed Gendry Baratheon,” Elia answered.

Visenya thought they were perfect for one another and that is what she told Arya. She could still remember Arya approaching herself and Allyria two moons before, asking for their advice on marriage. Gendry had asked her to be his lady wife once his father had dictated he wed a lady within six moons. She sensed Arya was looking for someone to push her into the decision her heart wanted to make. _Arya tries not to be the lady, but she loves him and he loves her. She will make for a good Lady of Storm’s End, whether she likes it or not._

“Tell Lady Arya and Lord Gendry I wish them well, but I am afraid I cannot attend their wedding,” Aemon replied with regret in his voice, reminding her of his worsening condition. With every passing day, Visenya could see her uncle was growing weaker and weaker. He could no longer stand under his own strength, requiring the assistance of others to move about his room.

“I shall let them know, Uncle. And I will be sure not let Arya hear you referred to her as a lady,” Rhaenys jested, rocking Princess Allyria in her arms. As Visenya’s eyes lingered on the babe, so did her thoughts on Princess Allyria’s namesake. She wondered where her cousin was, guessing she was spending time with Sansa and their babes. Sansa’s daughter, Amanda, was the first babe to be born with Allyria’s daughter Elys coming shortly after. Visenya prayed her children would become good friends with their cousins when they grew older.

“And why does Arya Stark not wish to be called a lady?” Aemon asked with a smirk on his lips.

“She grew up idolizing her cousin, who she thought only cared for sparring, hunting, and riding,” Rhaenys replied, giving her a knowing look with a raised eyebrow. Visenya shook her head, knowing it was the partial truth. _Even if I had not spent time in Winterfell, Arya would still be Arya. I am sure of it._

“I predict many girls across the realm will come to idolize Queen Visenya, as they will idolize you and Daenerys,” Aemon said. _Will they idolize us or fear us?_

“You are too kind Uncle,” Rhaenys replied, “But there are no tales of bravery to be sung for us. We do not share my sister’s skill with a sword.”

“No, but you and Daenerys are good Queens who care for the smallfolk. Tales of your kindness and bravery in Essos have spread to Westeros. This Maester Wolkan has told me how the northerners speak of you. When the armies return south, the tales of you three and your dragons will only spread. You can achieve great things for our House and the Seven Kingdoms. Remember who you are. Remember your duty, to our House and the Realm. To the people. Remember you are dragons,” Aemon encouraged them, reminding Visenya they had saved the Realm, but still had a lifetime to better it. _I will not leave a broken Realm to my children._

 

Having fed her hungry babes, Visenya left the makeshift nursery and found Silver waiting for her in the corridor with Ser Simon Sunglass and Ser Jonothor Darry. Both Kingsguard were assigned the duty of protecting the children’s room with a dozen Unsullied. When she looked down the corridor, she did not see any guards outside their quarters.

“Ser Jonothor, where is my husband?” she asked, wondering where Jon had gone. She had left him in their quarters before attending to her babes. _I expected him to still be in meetings with our advisors and going over the ravens from the South._

“The godswood, your Grace,” Ser Jonothor replied. _I should have known. It is the only place to find peace and solace. And our children are sure to be there._

Without saying a word, Ser Jonothor followed her down the corridor and through the Great Keep with Silver staying close to her side. When they reached the first level of the keep, the people cluttering the hallways made room for her to pass. Visenya loved Winterfell, but it did not feel the same as she remembered with hundreds of thousands of men still camped outside its high walls. Her mother’s childhood home reminded her of Dragonstone when she was just a Princess. The castle now reminded her of the Red Keep, full of visiting lords and ladies.

Cersei Lannister had been defeated and the Night King destroyed, but it did not stop the lords of the Seven Kingdoms from plotting and playing the game. Some were harder to spot than others, trying to curry favor with her husband or even sometimes herself. Several great lords had perished in the battle, but it did not dissuade some of the survivors from returning to their old ways.

While passing the Great Hall, Visenya could see Samwell Tarly speaking with Willas Tyrell and several lords from the Reach. She did not feel so sorry for his father’s passing, but she did share her condolences for his brother’s death. _At least we will have a lord at Horn Hill completely loyal to us._

Lord Tarly was not the only lord of the Reach to fall in the battle. The Reach suffered the heaviest losses, losing nearly fifteen thousand men alone when the wights broke through their ranks to reach the godswood. After the Reach, the Vale suffered the worst, losing ten thousand men. The Riverlands, Dorne, and the Westerlands lost a few thousand men together. Surprisingly, the Crownlands, Stormlands, North, free folk, and Unsullied suffered minimal losses despite making up the center of their lines.

When Visenya emerged from the Great Keep, into the courtyard, she was only reminded more of how different Winterfell had become since they arrived moons ago. Two dozen Unsullied were training with their spears and shields while several dozen northmen looked on, either impressed or drinking their ale while passing the time.

Most of the men who lived south of the Neck had already left Winterfell to begin the long march down the Kingsroad two moons ago, but thousands still remained. Every warden still remained in Winterfell and several thousand men with them. The entirety of the Targaryen household guard, the Unsullied, free folk, and the khalasar still remained.

As she made her way through the courtyard, the Unsullied abandoned their training and stood at attention, paying her respect as she passed by. On her walk toward the godswood, Visenya spied the Hound drinking with Beric Dondarrion and Thoros of Myr. They were all that was left of the Brotherhood Without Banners and their final stand on the walls near the godswood had already become a small story of legend, only overshadowed by Jon and their dragons.

Recalling her father’s tales of Thoros at Pyke, Visenya wished she had seen him in a real fight with his flaming sword at least once. Those thoughts were pushed aside by the sight of twenty or more Dothraki riding through the castle toward her. Their leader brought them to a halt, as they all raised their arakhs. “To Khaleesi Visenya and her silver dragon. To Princess Alysanne and Princess Vaella! They will grow strong like Khaleesi and kill their enemies!” the rider cried in Dothraki, leading the others to call out her daughters’ names.

“Alysanne and Vaella will have dragons of their own. When that day comes, we shall fly our dragons and visit the great city of Vaes Dothrak and see the home of our khalasar!” Visenya responded in Dothraki, earning yells of approval from the riders. Nodding her head, she bid them leave as they continued to ride toward the South Gate.

Continuing her northward trek through the castle, Visenya saw signs of normal life returning to Winterfell. Mikken was leading a cart full of good steel toward his forge with the help of a young boy who was surely his apprentice. Visenya guessed he was forging castle steel for the free folk who still lacked quality weapons. Elsewhere, she saw cooks carrying baskets of flour toward the Great Keep, Stark household guard training young boys how to fight, a stonemason inspecting the Old Keep, and Winterfell’s maester carrying a raven scroll to some unknown recipient.

“Ser Jonothor, you may remain here,” Visenya informed her Kingsguard before passing the two Unsullied standing on either side of the entrance to the godswood with Ser Arthur Dayne. She knew she was safe inside the godswood with Jon and their two direwolves.

It warmed her heart to see the godswood in its pristine condition with a foot of undisturbed snow covering the grounds. A fortnight after the battle, the grounds were still littered with weapons, furs, bits of armor, and signs of battle and death. Knowing her children would insist on returning to the grounds, Visenya ordered their Unsullied to scour the godswood and remove all that remained, for the children and herself. After that day, one would not know a battle even took place unless they paid close attention to the ramparts at the edge of the godswood with small signs of scorched stone.

Visenya did not have long to admire the beauty of the snowy godswood when she saw the figure approaching her direction on the cleared path leading to the weirwood tree. She had managed to avoid him for nearly a moon, but just the sight of him was sending her into an internal rage with her blood boiling. _I would kill him if it did not make me a kinslayer. He is lucky I do not have Dark Sister with me._

When Bran finally locked eyes with her, she made sure to let him know her feelings. Visenya hoped her eyes were throwing daggers into his soul, letting him know if he pushed her, she would drive Valyrian steel through his heart or burn him alive with Silverclaw’s dragonfire. Just before she brushed past him, she saw what she thought looked like an apologetic face. Not wanting to hear any apologies, Visenya continued to walk across the light layer of snow. _He shows regret now? Now? He showed no emotion since his return. If I find him spying on us as he has others, I will kill him._

The memory was still fresh in her mind. In the days after the battle when their armies began to clear the battlefield, Visenya questioned why Bran could see so much but somehow failed to see the Night King’s approach before the Night’s Watch and Mance Rayder arrived. After they burned thousands of their dead in the great pyres, she confronted Bran alone in the Winterfell library. Before she said a word, he confessed he had lied and knew the Night King would kill Jon. He saw everything and let it happen. There was no remorse or any sort of emotion in his voice. _I will never trust him again. Never._

After ridding her thoughts of Bran, Visenya found Jon where she expected. He sat on the rock along the edge of the black pool with Ghost sitting on his hind legs beside him. She wondered what he was thinking as he stared across the pool with steam rising off the surface into the cold winter air. She prayed his thoughts were happy, but feared he was reliving the moment he was stabbed in the heart.

The memory plagued his dreams and Visenya worried what it did to him. Every few nights, she would find him covered in a sheen of sweat in her arms, flinching and shaking as he relived his duel with the Night King. When she, Daenerys, or Rhaenys would wake him, Jon always dismissed their worries and told them they were just nightmares. Part of her feared it was more than that and she was concerned he was silently suffering on the inside.

Whether it was the sound of her boots crunching against the snow or Silver padding across the ground to join Ghost, Jon turned his head and gave her the smile he saved for them and hid from the world. Falling into his open arm, Visenya took her place at his side, resting her head against the fur on his shoulder. Carefully, she snaked her arms around his torso, holding onto his warmth.

“I never asked, how did our children fare on the hunt?” she broke the silence after several minutes of gazing upon a few wolves running in and out of the trees.

“They did well. They were silent when they needed to be,” Jon answered with a playful smirk on his lips.

“Even Dany and Arya?” she questioned. Both girls were eager to partake in the activities more suited to the boys, but neither were quiet.

“You would be surprised. Aegon as well,” Jon added. _That is surprising. Aegon is far closer to his namesake than Jon._

“How have you been?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” Jon responded with his confused grey eyes questioning her.

“You are still having the nightmares,” Visenya nearly whispered, afraid of his reaction. Jon began to duck his head, trying to hide his suffering from her. Determined not to let it rest, she continued, “Please, do not push me away love. I am worried for you. So is Rhaenys and Daenerys. It scares me every night when I find you in pain, suffering in my arms. I want to help.”

“I am sorry,” he responded. She felt horrible, seeing he was genuinely more concerned for her lack of sleep and fear for him.

“I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to be honest with me. I want you to tell us everything and let us heal whatever it is plaguing your dreams. I can see it on your face every morning,” she replied, raising her hand to his cheek, gently caressing his skin before letting her fingers fall through his light beard. When her hand came to rest over the scar on his heart, she continued, “Does it hurt?”

“No,” Jon answered, letting out a heavy breath as his eyes darted back and forth, piercing her own. “The physical pain has been gone for some time.”

“But your heart?” she asked, earning a silent nod from him. “How can we make it better?”

“You are doing it right now, reminding me why I was brought back,” Jon said, pulling her closer until her lips crashed against his. In the moment, Visenya felt like everything had returned to as it was with Jon’s tongue demanding entrance to her mouth. She wanted him to do this more often. _I want him to know our love and know we are here._

“I assume you saw Bran,” Jon said after their lips parted and she was finally able to breath. _He could see it on my face._

“I did,” she admitted, looking to the ground with her frustration. She was angered for Jon and almost felt just as angry that he did not seem to care. He told her Bran did what was necessary for the living to survive. _Fuck the living. Fuck the Seven Kingdoms. I would never let family willingly sacrifice themselves._ “Why was he here?”

“Robb is giving him Moat Cailin and I gave him my blessing,” Jon confessed. Moat Cailin was a ruined castle, but Visenya knew better than most. It was easily defended and guarded the north from a southern invasion by land. Any army coming from the south would have to divert their forces to an attack along the coast at the edges of the Neck or by sea, landing at the few ports or beaches in the North. Visenya was angered Bran would receive such an important keep.

“I do not trust him and neither does Daenerys or Rhaenys. You should have told us before letting Robb make it so,” she said, reading the disagreement on his face. “How can you trust him, after what he did? What he can do?”

“You haven’t told anyone, have you? Mother?” Jon asked. Visenya shook her head, obeying his earlier wishes to keep Bran’s deceit a secret.

“I have remained silent for you. If Mother found out, she would kill him and rightfully so. I would not fault her,” Visenya admitted, feeling guilty she cared too much not to be named a kinslayer. She guessed her mother would not care about such dishonor and Visenya assumed Jon thought the same regarding their mother. “But I do not understand why you are letting him have Moat Cailin.”

“The castle has fallen into disrepair and ruin for far too long. We cannot ensure the Seven Kingdoms will be at peace during our reign. The North must be better prepared for a war. And if you are worried about Bran’s visions, they are fading away or something like that. I am unsure what he means, but I can see he is changing,” Jon added with a comforting hand over her own and the other cupping her face, protecting her skin from the cold.

“Changing?” she questioned.

“Aye. I have spoken with him and there are fewer riddles in his words. He no longer calls himself the Three-Eyed Raven,” Jon declared, causing her to shake her head in disbelief.

“And you believe him?”

“Aye. I do,” Jon confirmed, sounding as confident as he did when he commanded their troops or when he taught her how to wield a sword. Visenya craved his confidence when he showed it. Before they were wed and she could not have him, she always had to fight the urge between her legs as he spoke so assuredly about the proper tactics of swordplay. He was always reserved and timid when it came to everything else, but when he sparred with her, she saw the confidence of a king. But now, she hated his confidence in Bran because she could not disagree more. “He is to wed Meera Reed and the crannogmen will help garrison the castle and rebuild it. Do you think she would marry him if he were still the same?”

“I don’t know. I hardly know her. You hardly know her,” she responded. King’s Landing and Meereen had taught her not trust anyone, even those she thought she knew. _Why Meera Reed?_

“I know her father and so do you. You know his children would be nothing but honorable,” Jon argued. _We also trusted Viserys. We also trusted Bran. I am not sure we can trust anyone because of what House they belong to any longer._

Visenya remained silent, no longer wishing to speak on the matter. She did not want her feelings toward Bran to divide them and decided to trust Jon, not her cousin.

“Alysanne and Vaella, how are they? They were sleeping when I went to their room,” Jon asked.

“They are likely asleep now. They should wake in a few hours.”

“They are beautiful babes,” Jon added with a true smile on his face.

“Our true northern princesses. Allyria as well. When they are old enough, I want to return to Winterfell and show them the North. They should see where they were born,” Visenya declared, imagining what a true royal progress through the North would look like. _Perhaps our northern castle will be complete by then._

“We will and if not, I am sure they will claim dragons of their own and fly here without us,” he jested, reminding her of the future she dreamed of. Visenya wanted each of their children to have a dragon of their own and know what it felt like to fly over a thousand miles of land in a day. She wanted her children to be powerful, to protect themselves and House Targaryen.

“I’m not sure I am ready to leave,” Visenya admitted, knowing they were not long for the North. Once the babes determined healthy enough to travel, they would begin the long journey down the Kingsroad. If winter was kind, she estimated they would return to the Red Keep before the new year.

“Aye. Neither am I,” Jon affirmed, resting his brow against hers.

“You always preferred the North to King’s Landing,” she observed, seeing the smile play on his lips.

“And you didn’t?” he replied, causing them both to laugh. It was the truth. Visenya detested to politics that came with the lords and ladies making themselves present in the Red Keep. She also held little affection for the cramped city with one million people living within its walls. Winterfell was free and breathable, unlike the capital during the summer. It reminded her of Dragonstone or even Summerhall, only having visited the castle once.

“I missed this,” she said, finally pulling her head back to look into his eyes.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“The sound of your laughs. I haven’t heard you laugh for a long time. It makes me happy, that’s all,” Visenya said, kissing him one more time to remind him how much she loved him.

 

“And that’s where father beat the Night King?” her eldest son, Jon, asked. He was pointing toward the open fields lying outside the North Gate. Visenya held her son firmly in her arms as he stood on a small wooden crate against the ramparts over the gate. It was still early morning and there were only a few northern sentries standing guard atop the walls, complimented by a dozen Unsullied and Ser Garlan.

“Yes, your father fought a great battle here. The greatest battle Westeros has ever seen. Thousands and thousands of evil wights attacked and attacked. And that wasn’t the worst of it. The evil White Walkers came too,” she briefly retold the tale that would surely be told for hundreds of years, long after they were dead. She hated speaking of the battle, but with time, the tale became a little easier to tell.

“And you burned them with Silverclaw,” he said.

“Yes, we did. We burned the Dead,” she answered, remembering what the battle looked like on the ground below.

“Are they still around?” Jon asked, but not with a worried tone as he twisted his head to look at her. His eyes told her he was curious and did not fear the White Walkers, which were just a tale to him.

“No, my brave son. They are gone and will never come back. Your father made sure of that. He saved the Realm and protected us all,” she said, causing her boy to smile.

“Where did they come from?” her son asked, returning his gaze to the north as she messed his raven curls, causing him to flinch from her attention.

“There,” Visenya whispered into his ear, kneeling to his eye level. She pointed toward the northern horizon, hoping her son did not think they came from just beyond the hills and forests within sight. He was still young and she was still learning how to be a mother to a son of his age. “Over a thousand miles away, in a place called the Lands of Always Winter, beyond the Wall.”

“Where Uncle Aemon and Uncle Benjen live?” he asked, impressing her he remembered where Castle Black was.

“Yes, Jon, where Uncle Aemon and Uncle Benjen lived,” she said.

“I don’t want them to go,” he said, fearing they would leave.

“And they won’t sweetling. They are staying here, with us,” she responded, squeezing her arms around his small form, buried underneath several layers of fur she made sure he wore before leaving the Great Keep.

They had decided the Night’s Watch was no more and left the castles along the Wall to any free folk and capable northmen willing to claim them. Many of the free folk had yet to decide where they would go once winter was over. Visenya guessed some would stay in the White Harbor and Barrowton. Others would return to Winter Town and nearby settlements. Thousands had already sworn to build a town near Long Lake where Jon had decided to build a castle for House Targaryen. Jon told her he suspected half to settle in the Gift and populate the Watch’s abandoned castles. Some would return to the true North. _I cannot blame them. It is their home._

Visenya was glad to call the free folk her people. She was even happier to know the war that almost cost them everything freed her uncles from their vows. Aemon’s final days would be spent with his blood and not the brothers of the Night’s Watch. She prayed he would make it to King’s Landing, but feared that would not come to pass.

“Rhaegar said Uncle Benjen will live with Aunt Ashara and Aunt Allyria,” her son said, surprising her the children understood what was going on. She was pleasantly surprised to find her uncle finding happiness with Ashara Dayne. Ashara had gone so long without a man, Visenya did not expect her to find one now. She was happy for them both. Each had gone long enough without sharing life with another. She was also pleased to know Allyria would have a member from her father’s House in Highgarden.

“He will, but he will travel with us down the Kingsroad. It will be months before we have to say goodbye to him,” she comforted her son, kissing his raven curls.

“Can we visit Aunt Arya too?” Jon asked.

“Of course, my little prince. But you will see plenty of your aunt, I promise. The castle she will live in is close to home,” she said, wondering just how often she would see her cousin. For a time, she doubted her cousin was even alive. Now, she was sure to see the future Lady of Storm’s End more than her other Stark kin. _Lady Arya Baratheon, wed to the heir of Storm’s End. She would never have believed me if I told her years ago. That was Sansa’s dream._

Visenya wished she could stay like they were, with her son in her arms, but sensed his growing restlessness. Easing her grip, she stood on her feet and helped her son off the small crate he stood on to look over the ramparts. “What do you say we find your brothers and sisters and so you can play with your sword?”

Nodding his head in confirmation with a grin on his face, Visenya took Jon’s small hand in her own and walked them toward the stairs leading to the yard below. They only had a few weeks left in Winterfell and she wanted the children to enjoy every hour they had left before they were driven to boredom along the journey down the Kingsroad.

 

**Rhaenys Targaryen**

Again, Rhaenys was reminded of time and how precious it truly was. She would have given anything to have more time with her father and Aegon. In the hours after Jon’s death, the idea of lost time weighed on her even more. It still hurt, but she was glad she took every opportunity to spend time with her great great great uncle.

Aemon Targaryen, maester of Castle Black and the Night’s Watch had passed in the night. They were prepared for his death as his health continued to decline over the last year, but it did not make it any less painful. Rhaenys’ time with him was brief, but important to her and she understood why her brother, sister, and Daenerys spoke so highly of him. He was a wise man who taught her important lessons about their family and what it meant to follow one’s duty. _I wish Egg would have met him._

Rhaenys began to recall her talks with Aemon regarding her father and the many letters he exchanged with her father as she helped dress her eldest son. She knew of the ravens coming to and from Castle Black, but did not know how much of an influence Uncle Aemon had on her father. Through her uncle, she felt like she learned another side of her father. The side that questioned his own judgement and leaned on counsel from those he truly trusted. She suspected her mother and Lyanna were the only ones left who saw that side of her father.

“There you are, my son,” she said, fastening the final pin linking the cloak on his shoulders. Her son did not quite look like a northerner with his silver hair, but he did look like his father and Rhaenys knew the North had become a part of her son in the months since they set foot in White Harbor.

“Why isn’t Valarr or Brandon going?” Aegon questioned in a curious tone that was not angered to be forced from his typical mornings that included some combination of riding lessons, running through the godswood, or sparring with his brothers.

“Because they are not old enough to understand. You are,” Rhaenys answered, leaving a loving peck on his brow before straightening a few loose strands of hair around his face. She didn’t know why, but she began to second guess herself and worried Aegon may not understand. “Do you understand what happened to Uncle Aemon?”

“We are never going to see him again,” Aegon responded with a quivering chin and a small lump in his throat that was not hard to miss.

“It is alright if you want to cry. I cried last night when I found out he died,” she offered, knowing her children had come to love her elderly uncle. Uncle Aemon had a skill for telling stories with dragons and Targaryens fit for children’s ears.

“Brave men don’t cry,” her son mumbled before the tears began to fall down his cheeks.

“Sure they do, Aegon. Sure they do. The bravest princes cry when they lose family. Uncle Aemon was your family. It is alright, Aegon. It is alright,” she said in a hushed tone, wrapping her son in her arms as she knelt on the floor. She felt for her children, losing family for the first time in their lives. Rhaenys did not know how it felt to lose family until her father and her brother when she was a woman grown.

When her son’s hurried breaths slowed and her gentle hand circling his back seemed to calm his nerves, Rhaenys wiped the tears from his face. It was apparent she did not cure all his sadness, but she did not expect to. Something in her mind told her to let him stay behind and not attend the funeral pyre, but decided against it. Aegon would insist on going with his brothers and sisters. Even if they were not going, Rhaenys knew her son would want to go because his father was. He idolized Jon and mimicked everything his father did.

Rhaenys smiled at the memory of Aegon asking for a sword that looked like Blackfyre. He was tired of wooden swords and wanted a Valyrian steel sword like his father. That was not the only time her son made her laugh. Aegon did his best to fight her when she tried to dress him in any colors that were not black.

“Do you need a hug Egg?” Nymeria asked, swooping in to wrap her twin brother in her arms. Rhaenys fought a small laugh escaping her lips, seeing her daughter was not giving Aegon an option. Like her brothers and sisters, Nymeria was clad in black to mourn their blood.

As Nymeria hugged her brother, Rhaenys admired the small braid Vithi had made for her daughter. It was not quite a Dothraki braid, but it was also not as simple as the ones preferred by northern ladies. Seeing her daughter raise Aegon’s spirits warmed Rhaenys’ heart.

Nymeria was always full of life and cared so much for her siblings. Rhaenys saw it every day, through the small gestures and kind words her daughter offered. Their children got along with one another and rarely fought, but Rhaenys had never seen Nymeria squabble with any of her brothers or sisters. She was a lot like her sister, Senya. Where Arya and Dany were strong-willed and stubborn, Nymeria and Senya were gentle and soft-spoken.

“It is time,” her mother said, appearing at her side, staring down at the children before them.

“Give them a moment,” Rhaenys replied, hoping her children would give each other the strength to move on and not let Uncle Aemon’s death weigh on them. “They are taking it better than I expected.”

“How are you feeling?” her mother whispered, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

“It was expected, but it still hurts. I wanted more time. I felt like there was so much more for him to tell me and for me to learn,” Rhaenys mused, wishing she had better words to explain her true feelings. She prayed Jon had better words than her own when he would say farewell to Uncle Aemon forever. “I am just glad he did not suffer and his last days were with family.”

“I did not know him well, but I know he was not alone all these years. He had family at the Wall. They may not be blood, but the Night’s Watch were his brothers,” her mother added. Rhaenys would have argued before meeting him, but now she knew the truth. _You aren’t wrong. He always spoke of them as brothers and never complained once of his time at Castle Black. He was content and proud to serve the realms of men. I will miss him._

 

Escorted by their Kingsguard and a handful of men from their household guard, Rhaenys walked outside Winterfell’s North Gate with her family to the unlit funeral pyre. Hundreds were already there waiting, including all that was left of the Night’s Watch. Her mother and Lyanna held back the children as she walked beside Jon toward the carefully stacked pile of timber beneath Uncle Aemon’s corpse.

Rhaenys held her winter cloak against her form to shield herself from the elements as Jon stepped toward Aemon, saying his farewell before returning to their children. She waited for her sister and Daenerys to follow Jon, whispering their memories and gratefulness to the eldest member of House Targaryen. When Visenya brushed past her, Rhaenys knew it was her turn to bid Aemon farewell.

Resting her hands on the wood before her, Rhaenys leaned closer to say her final words. “I wish we had more time. I will never forgive myself for never seeing you at Castle Black. I swear it, I will not forget the time we had. I am glad you were able to hold my children and know our House will live on through them. You will not be forgotten. I will not forget and neither will my children. The Night’s Watch had never seen a better maester. I hope wherever you are, you find peace,” Rhaenys softly spoke, backing away from the pyre. “Farewell Uncle.”

When she finally turned around to join her family, she also saw Robb Stark and Margaery Stark standing near her grandmother. Almost all the high lords and powerful knights who remained in Winterfell were present. Allyria and Willas were also looking on with Arianne and Edric with the lords of the Reach and Dorne. None of them really knew her uncle, be she was grateful for their presence and the respect they paid to his memory.

After several moments of silence, Jon stepped forward, readying himself for the speech. “His name was Aemon Targaryen. A maester of the Citadel, chained and sworn. A sworn brother of the Night’s Watch, ever faithful. No man wiser or gentler or kinder. A dozen lord commanders came and went during his time at Castle Black and he was always there to serve them. He offered wise counsel to commanders, rangers, stewards, princes, and kings alike. He was the blood of the dragon and now his fire has gone out,” Jon said, struggling with his final words.

She could feel the heavy lump in her throat. Rhaenys swore she would not cry. Remembering Aemon for who he was to her and their family, she pulled Aegon and Nymeria closer, clutching their shoulders for strength. Rhaenys did not want to see another pyre for their family for many years.

“And now his watched has ended,” Jon declared, leading the remaining brothers of the Night’s Watch and the men who knew the meaning of the words to echo Jon. Handed a torch by Ser Barristan Selmy, Jon took the final steps toward their kin and lit the corner of the pyre nearest him.

Rhaenys watched the flames begin to spread and dance in her eyes as Jon passed the torch to Samwell Tarly. After Samwell came Lord Eddison Tollett, given the title by Jon and named the new commander of King’s Landing’s City Watch. Benjen Stark was the last to come forward, grabbing the torch from Edd’s hand and lighting what was left of the remaining wood.

Jon must have noticed the emotions playing in her eyes, because she found his hand giving her wrist a gentle squeeze. Silently thanking his loving gesture, she gave him a pained smile before returning her gaze to the blazing pyre before them.

As the fire raged, the people gathered for the funeral began to leave. Those closest to House Targaryen and their Dothraki remained out of respect until the fire slowly dwindled to small, flickering flames. Rhaenys waited with Jon until it was only themselves, Visenya, Daenerys, and their Kingsguard. They did not leave, waiting for the winds of winter to extinguish the flames and leave them ashes and embers. Jon swore to keep Uncle Aemon’s ashes and return them to Dragonstone, where his remains would rest with their father and brother.

 

Her eyes began to flutter open, telling herself it was morning and she needed to wake. She was sure Torrhen and Allyria would need her for they were still young babes who constantly required her attention. But before she could see to her motherly duties, Rhaenys basked in her husband’s warmth.

Nuzzling her cheek further into his chest with her arm draped across his torso, Rhaenys clung to his hard muscles. Her hips began to involuntarily thrust against his side as her cunt begged for his presence. As had become routine, she lifted her head off his chest and found the scar that had nearly stolen him from her. Gently, she leant down to leave a loving kiss on Jon’s scar, hoping every kiss would act as the cure to the suffering and pain he endured.

She swore before the old gods she would love him until the end of their days and she intended to keep that promise, even if it was more of a promise to him and herself than any gods. She loved him and he loved her. Jon always cared for her and paid close attention to her subtle feelings. When they were young, Jon never seemed to be good with girls and she thought he was just a foolish green boy. But the man she came to love was very different. Somehow, he always knew when she felt sad or wracked with guilt or struggled with herself over some decision. Jon was always there to help her and ask what he could.

Rhaenys knew she had to do the same and return his love. He never complained or said anything to hint there was something wrong, but Rhaenys noticed the little things besides the occasional nightmares that were becoming less frequent. Something about the way he looked at her and their children told her he knew what it was like to lose them and it scared him. Every morning when she woke up next to him, she swore she would show him the love they shared and tell him that he was there to stay with them.

Seconds after she laid her fifth kiss along his healing scar, Rhaenys felt Jon’s hand running through her unbraided hair, telling her he was awake. Lifting her eyes to connect with his, she returned his smile, loving that he was happy in that moment. _Gods, he still turns me into a lovesick maid._

“Are you ready?” he asked, referring to their departure from Winterfell in two days’ time.

“No,” she admitted with a whisper, hoping not to wake a sleeping Daenerys on Jon’s other side or her sister behind herself. Rhaenys could still feel her sister’s hand resting on her hip, never moving as she slept in peace.

“You never thought you would say that, did you?” Jon presumed correctly, knowing the affection she held for Sunspear and Dorne. She guessed she would have fallen in love with the North had she fostered in Winterfell with them when she was a princess. One thing she did know was that Jon would not like Sunspear.

“No, but I am happy here. You and the children are happy here. I do not want to return to King’s Landing. Not yet,” she responded, thinking about what that entailed. She was prepared to deal with the pressures of ruling and dealing with the scheming lords and ladies of the Seven Kingdoms. Years spent fighting slavers in the Bay of Dragons and conquering Essos prepared her for her rule. Removing Cersei and defeating the Night King made everything else pale in comparison, but she worried for her children. She could protect them as much as a Queen could, but she knew the truth.

Rhaenys knew what it meant to be a Princess of House Targaryen in the Red Keep. Snakes could be found in every corner at court, tempting a prince or princess. Many would try to divide their children, even more so than those that tried to pit her against Jon and Visenya. They had all agreed they would need to watch their children closely and instill in them that their House needed to stay together.

“Rhaenys?” Jon pulled her out of her thoughts as his hand slid from her hair to the crook of her neck.

“Sorry, I was just thinking about everything we have to deal with upon our return,” she said, wondering if he was thinking the same.

“Aye. I still need to speak with the free folk and decide who will receive lordships and who gets which castle and lands,” Jon said, reminding her that they needed more than just Tormund Giantsbane to lead the free folk after Mance Rayder fell in the battle.

“Has Robb decided what he is going to do with the Dreadfort?” she inquired, having left their previous meeting before the lands belonging to House Bolton could be discussed. It had been years since the Boltons had been killed and the castellan was entrusted with the Dreadfort in the years since. _Will Robb give the lands to Rickon?_

“Martyn Cassel will receive the Dreadfort. Rickon was considered, but I advised Robb against it. With Bran being named Lord of Moat Cailin, it would not sit well with the northern lords in the years to come if another Stark was given such a keep,” Jon said with sound reason, Rhaenys thought. The Lord of the Dreadfort was always one of the most important men in the North and the lands along the Weeping Water were some of the best in the North.

“You gave him wise counsel. They would say nothing now, but in the years to come, when Ned comes to rule?” Rhaenys backed Jon’s decision. _House Cassel will serve Robb well. They are practically Starks of Winterfell themselves._ “Do some of the free folk still plan to return north of the Wall?”

“Tormund says they will. I cannot fault them. It’s all they know,” Jon said.

“Home,” she affirmed, knowing she would not choose to live anywhere else besides home. Rhaenys had always seen home as Dragonstone or the Red Keep, but now she knew better. _Home is Jon, Daenerys, and Visenya. Home is our family._

“What about home?” Daenerys asked in a sleepy voice, attempting to open her eyes.

“Nothing,” Rhaenys said, kissing Jon again before letting her hand slide under the furs to reach for his cock, slowly stroking it until he was hard for her. While she plotted her next move, Visenya’s lips began to leave a trail from the crook of her neck to her shoulder, down her arm, and finally onto her hip. Deciding she wanted to please Jon, she released his hard length but found Visenya crawling over her legs under to furs to take him in her mouth.

“Visenya…” Jon growled as her sister began to use her talented tongue to push him toward his climax. Jon did not let her feel left out for long as one of his hands found her breasts, kneading her nipple until it was a hardened pebble for him to take in his mouth.

Rhaenys was content with his love and attention focused on her breasts, but it was not enough for Jon. Without warning, he let one breast pop out of his mouth and reached for her ass, pulling her core toward his face. She willingly complied, moving up the bed to sit on his face so the tongue she loved could tease her wet petals and circle her clit until she screamed his name.

First, he took his time as usual, always patient to tease the edges of her folds before diving in to part her entrance. With every flick and swirl, Rhaenys felt her hips thrust into his mouth, knowing the only thing that could please her more was his perfect cock filling her to the hilt. Before they left their bedchambers, she was determined to feel his warm seed coating her walls.

“Oh gods, Jon…my love…Jon…there….there…,” she moaned as her heart raced and she struggled to breath. The only thing she could do was run her fingers through his curls, forcing his tongue to somehow please her more while her other handed fondled the breast he had previously abandoned.

Rhaenys could feel the tensing of his powerful muscles underneath her as she moaned in High Valyrian while his hands caressed her ass. Sensing Visenya was getting him close to cumming for her, she knew Jon was going to move on to her nub and break any walls she had built to last much longer. The first flick of her nub sent a powerful feeling up her spine.

Almost forgetting Daenerys was there, Rhaenys felt her full lips on her pulse as a hand began to tease her other breast. Rocking her hips again, she soon felt the shudder underneath her thighs telling her Jon was spilling his seed into Visenya’s mouth. Just as he had begun to push her to the edge, Visenya stole the moment from her as Jon’s tongue slowed its pursuit of her clit.

“Oh Dany!” Rhaenys sobbed as Daenerys’ seemed to notice and let her fingers fall from her breast to take Jon’s place, strumming her nub. Daenerys’ fingers felt like some evil magic trying to tempt her away from Jon until she felt his tongue on her again. _They’re going to break me._

Daenerys and Jon were fighting like two starving wolves over her nub. Jon’s tongue and Daenerys’ soft fingers were fighting for supremacy, chaotically working to find Rhaenys’ ecstasy. What should have been a terrible mess turned into a loving fight that became a paired effort to drive Rhaenys mad. Through heavy breaths, Rhaenys cried, “Jon…Dany…my loves…my dragons…oh…Jon!”

Rhaenys did not last much longer when Jon hit her just the right way, causing her body to writhe over his face while his hands held her ass in place, not letting her escape his tongue. Her cries were louder than she wished, but she would not regret it if she woke the Great Keep of Winterfell. Jon devoured her cunt until she was spent and could take no more. She questioned if she could do anything for the rest of the day when it took Daenerys and Visenya to pull her exhausted form off Jon, allowing him to breathe.

As she came down from her bliss with hooded eyes, Rhaenys felt Jon’s lips on hers. She could taste herself on him and she only got wetter for him as he left the searing kiss on her lips. With the rise and fall of her chest, her hand came to a rest on her breast and she opened her eyes to look over at her husband. Rhaenys felt even more aroused by the sight of Jon fucking Daenerys as she laid on her back beside her. _I will return the favor when my strength is returned to me._

After another hour of passionate lovemaking, Rhaenys found herself looking for Jon, expecting him to join them in the warm baths prepared by their Dothraki handmaidens. Leaving Daenerys and Visenya behind as they sank into one of the steaming tubs, Rhaenys crossed the small solar adjoining the bedchambers. Rhaenys passed through the open doorway to find Jon gazing out the window, naked as his first nameday. While he admired the northern landscape and castle walls, she admired his sculpted back and perfectly shaped ass.

Intolerable of the cold, Rhaenys hurried across the chambers, wrapping her arms around his back so her hands rested on his chest. She could feel his heartbeat through her fingers on his chest and her breasts pressed against his back. Rhaenys thought it odd at first, but now she cherished the feeling. She wanted to listen to his heart for hours. Just knowing he was there, alive and with her was enough to make her the happiest woman in all the Seven Kingdoms.

The moment her lips hit his shoulder blade to leave a small kiss, she felt his finger intertwine with her own, lifting her hand to kiss her knuckles. Rhaenys prayed they would never let go or forget these small gestures they shared with one another. She did not need to be reminded Jon loved her, but she craved his thoughtful actions anyways.

“Are you going to join me? I do not want to be alone,” she said with her breath hitting the smooth skin on his back.

“In a moment love,” Jon replied in his northern tilt. She could tell it in his voice. He did not want to leave.

“We will return one day. Winterfell will still be here,” she offered, wondering when that actual day would come. _How much older will our child be? Will it be a few years from now or later? Will our children have princes and princesses of their own? I pray not._

“I know,” he said, letting out a tired breath. “Do not let my brooding ruin things.”

“I love your brooding,” she teased him with an actual truth. Rhaenys always worried for Jon and the pressure he put on himself, but the behavior was part of him. _You would not be my Jon if you didn’t._

She smirked as he let out a small, incredulous laugh. “How many times have you told me to stop brooding?”

“I love it and I hate it. What can I say?” she admitted, causing him to turn around, pulling her flush against his front. She loved the feeling of his cock against her stomach with her breasts pressed against his chest, while his hands roamed her ass.

“Tell me you love me and you’ll be my Queen forever,” he said, smiling because he knew she would never consider anything else.

“I love you,” she said before jumping off the ground and wrapping her legs around his waist with her arms over his shoulders. “And I will always be your Queen. Now take me to our bath, my King.”

Her seductive High Valyrian got what she wanted with his lips connecting with hers. Jon slowly carried them out of their chambers, accidently running her into the edge of the doorway, causing both of them to laugh. She was too consumed with him to worry about the small pain that quickly faded away as his tongue traced her bottom lip.

With great care, she eventually heard his feet plunging in the water before Jon gently settled them into the tub. The water was still steaming as she gazed upon his face, brushing away the raven curls surrounding his face so she could see all of him. Secured in his lap, Rhaenys nuzzled her nose into the crook of his neck, inhaling his northern scent. It drove her mad with lust while also relaxing her at the same time. She could not explain it, but she let her eyelids fall, resting in his embrace for as long as she could before their duties called for them.

 

“Your Grace,” Margaery curtsied after Rhaenys had just said her farewells to Robb Stark and the rest of their House. The only person they were not going to see one final time was Bran Stark. She and her sister had made it clear they never wished to speak with him again. _That fool should thank his old gods he was born a Stark or Myrax would feast on his charred flesh by now._

“Lady Stark,” she replied in a playful tone, knowing Margaery understood her jest. Neither would have expected the Rose of Highgarden to be stolen away from the Lord of Winterfell, breaking the hearts of many wishful lords across the Reach to the Crownlands. Rhaenys did not consider her a sister like she did Allyria or Arianne, but she considered Margaery a friend. She would miss her witty words and entertaining company. “I am afraid we will not see each other for many years, my friend.”

“Ned will miss his dear cousins,” Margaery pointed out, glancing toward the group of boys saying their farewells. Rhaenys would miss watching her children at play with their Stark cousin. Ned seemed like a good boy and she prayed their parting would not endure for too many years.

“You are always welcome at King’s Landing,” Rhaenys offered, knowing there would be plenty of tourneys that would bring in many of the lords across the Seven Kingdoms. Winterfell was far away, but she prayed Robb and Margaery would travel down the Kingsroad to reunite with all their kin in the South. _If it comes to it, we will fly our dragons here and bring them to the Red Keep if it’s the time on the road that bothers them._

“Send a raven when you visit Summerhall,” Margaery jested.

“I will,” Rhaenys promised, knowing that was a better idea. She could see it. Summerhall was large enough to host their extended family and would make for a great place to host a feast for those closest to them. Rhaenys was eager to see her own children enjoy the wonderous gardens and relaxing lake at their summer palace.

“I guess this is farewell,” Margaery said before Rhaenys hugged her friend she had gotten closer to in the months after the Battle of Winterfell.

“Be sure to tell Ned and Brynden their aunts and uncle are thinking about them,” Rhaenys offered before breaking away from Margaery. _She looks like a proper northern lady now. The dresses sewn in Highgarden will not do up here. Certainly not in winter._

Taking the reins of her Dornish stallion from the young northern stableboy, Rhaenys climbed onto her saddle. As she twisted her horse to face the South Gate, Rhaenys took one last glance toward House Stark and the northern lords and free folk that remained. She managed to catch Jon giving Robb a final nod before guiding his destrier toward the wheelhouses being pulled out of the courtyard.

Rhaenys rode beside her sister, behind Jon and Daenerys, stealing quick glances around the castle before they made their way through the South Gate, onto the Kingsroad. Like their arrival, the smallfolk who had returned to Winter Town stood along to road to see their King and Queens as the dragons flew overhead.

The people cheered her name, but she wished she shared the same connection Visenya and Daenerys held with the people. Rhaenys never had the chance to get to know the smallfolk here and wished their visit to Winterfell was in a time of peace instead of war. _At least I will know the people at Sunspear and the Shadow City whenever we lead a royal progress through Dorne._

It was not even an hour after they rode out of Winter Town that Rhaenys realized she had said farewell to what she loved about the North. She loved Winterfell and its godswood. She liked the simplicity of Winter Town and the loyal smallfolk who lived there even in the summer. Now, there was nothing but hundreds of miles of empty road between them and the Neck. There was still Castle Cerwyn and the odd town or holdfast, but for the most part, there would just be rolling hills and plains covered in snow.

Just when she doubted her ability to endure the cold of winter, Shadow came to her side. If she was ever cold and did not have Jon nearby, Rhaenys knew she could rely on her direwolf. _Do not let me freeze up here before we return South. They will jest about Dornish dragon who fell by the hand of winter._

 

 

**Daenerys Targaryen**

It had taken over two moons to reach King’s Landing, but Daenerys was just relieved to see the end of their journey. The most difficult and troublesome leg of their journey took place from Winterfell to southernmost edge of the Barrowlands. The heavy winter snows slowed their army some, but the khalasar cleared the way with the assistance of Harrold Arryn’s knights. The men from the Vale knew how to fight and move swiftly across the snow.

Daenerys preferred riding her mare to being locked in a wheelhouse, especially after becoming a Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea. But she could not deny she secretly loved the excuse of helping care for her one-year old babes, Rhaella and Daeron. She much rather care for them than being stuck outside to fight off the cruel northern winds.

While the snows were lighter when they reached the Neck, Daenerys found Moat Cailin to still be a ruin. The castle gave her an eerie feeling that never seemed to go away during the one night they camped there. Her children seemed to enjoy it more than she expected, treating the castle as their own battleground, imagining battles of old as they fought with their swords through the crumbling stones and broken battlements. She still smiled when she remembered Jon being forced to step in and end their fun, otherwise the entire army would not get any sleep.

Travelling in the North during summer was far easier than in winter, but Daenerys learned it was not the same in the Neck. The swamps surrounding the Kingsroad confined them to the road itself and made her feel as restless as she was all those years ago. But unlike the first time she rode through the Neck, the unpleasant smells telling her they were surrounded by wetlands were gone. The swamps were frozen over and all her nose could smell was the brisk northern air. 

Once they were south of the Neck and into the Riverlands, the journey became easy and they made good time down the Kingsroad toward the Crossroads. It was at the Crossroads that they faced their first farewell, saying goodbye to their Warden of the East and the five thousand men who stayed with their lord at Winterfell.  Sansa had certainly changed from the naïve girl swooning over handsome knights and lords in shining armor into a hardened lady. But Daenerys could see Sansa’s years as a prisoner to the Lannisters and her time with Littlefinger had not entirely killed the kindness inside her. Daenerys saw the way Sansa held her daughter and thought she would make a good mother.

Like the North and the Riverlands, the Crownlands were covered in a layer of snow, even if it was only a few inches. If winter was going to plague King’s Landing, Daenerys wished for the snow to come with it so her children could keep some piece of the North with them. To her relief, her wishes were fulfilled and she found herself looking upon the city founded by Aegon the Conqueror painted with a brush of snow.

Daenerys never thought the city a sight to behold, but now as she looked onto the snow-covered rooftops and billowing chimneys across the capital, she thought it was one of the most beautiful sights she had ever seen. _The smallfolk likely disagree, but we will not let them starve. Not under our rule._

“Do you remember the last time we stood here?” Jon asked after she felt his familiar hands come to rest on her hips as Ghost padded through the snow to stand by her direwolf. Daenerys leaned into his embrace, watching Sonar and Viserion fly over the city, warning the people of their return.

“It feels so long ago, but I remember every part of it. I’m glad we no longer have to hide our love, but I still miss some of it. Sneaking a kiss here and there. It was exciting, our many first times for…many things,” Daenerys recalled. Her heart fluttered just remembering the night they returned and Jon saw every part of her for the first time in his bedchambers. Neither really knew what they were doing, but nothing could recapture the thrill and excitement that came with exploring one another’s bodies.

She still thanked the gods that was something they shared together and not with someone else. Daenerys could have easily made the mistake of sharing her bed with the young lords who visited King’s Landing, but Jon and their time in the North saved her from that. She had heard several friends speak of their first time with men they would not wed or even loved. _That’s not me._

“We still have to hide some of it,” Jon countered, reminding her of the image they presented to the world as King and Queen. Daenerys always fought her body’s compulsion to be all over him. There were still certain norms they would uphold as rulers and she did not want their subjects to see all of the love they had for one another.

“You aren’t hiding it now,” she said, breaking free from his grasp and turning on her heels to look up at his face. She raised her hands to his neck to pull him down for a kiss, not caring if the Dothraki, Unsullied, or Westerosi soldiers passing by saw them.

Seconds after she broke their kiss, Daenerys let out a laugh when she heard the hooves beating down the Kingsroad and glimpsed the two riders racing around the marching Unsullied. It was almost as she remembered, Visenya riding a white mare to join them. Only this time, Rhaenys came with her and they both looked like true Khaleesis as they gracefully slid from their saddles with intricate braids falling down their backs. Both wore similar winter dresses with three headed dragon brooches holding the capes on their shoulders. Unlike the white fur that dominated her own dress, Visenya wore a grey one while Rhaenys’ was a dark red, hinting at their House’s colors.

“It’s beautiful,” Visenya remarked, seeing King’s Landing for the first time since they sailed north.

Jon did not give Visenya the time to truly admire the scenery, pulling her flush against him to leave a searing kiss on her lips. Not to be left out, Rhaenys stole him away from Visenya to taste their husband. Daenerys knew it could have lasted longer and become more passionate, but they minded their surroundings as she had before them.

Returning her gaze to the Red Keep and the city they would rule from, she felt Jon behind her once again with Rhaenys and Visenya on either side of her. Darkskye and Moonlight had joined the other two dragons flying over the city, occasional letting out a roar that was sure to scare some and awe others. As she watched the riderless dragons dance in the sky, Daenerys thought of the day that would come when their children would claim dragons for themselves.

“This is ours now to rule,” Jon said over her shoulder. _And Rhaegar’s after us. I pray he chooses a good queen._

Daenerys thought she would feel the weight and pressure of carrying on the legacy of her ancestors. She expected to stress over maintaining House Targaryen’s rule over the Seven Kingdoms and Essos, but she felt none of it. With Visenya and Rhaenys standing by her at Jon’s side, she was confident they could rule the Realm. They had conquered a continent and reclaimed their family’s throne. Jon had defeated the Night King and ended a threat that had lasted thousands of years, even if no one knew it before. _Jon will not fail. We will not fail._

“We will always be here, to help you rule,” Visenya promised, leading Daenerys to think Visenya heard some doubt or unease in their husband’s voice. “It will not be as easy as leading our khalasar from city to city and conquering, but I know you are a great King and we will be by your side, always.”

Visenya was right and Daenerys knew it. Maintaining the peace in Meereen was difficult and their political moves did little to resolve the war taking place between the freed slaves and their former masters. Their hand was forced to end the war with fire and blood. Daenerys already had a dozen or so lords in mind who she thought would bring them trouble in the years to come. And she certainly expected plotting and revolts to arise in Essos in the future. They had slain many of the powerful men and families who ruled the cities they conquered, but not all of them. _And our allies may not always remain our allies._

“We will all rule, not just me. You are my Queens, not some consorts,” Jon swore, reminding her again why she loved him. He would do anything for them. She would never ask it or want it, but she knew he was so selfless, he would give up his crown to her if she demanded it. Sometimes it caused Daenerys to question herself and ask if she would give up everything for him. She thought the answer was yes, but she thought she could never be sure.

“That is one of the reasons I love you,” Rhaenys replied, echoing Daenerys’ thoughts.

“It looks far more beautiful from here than down there,” Allyria interrupted their conversation, sitting upon her horse with Winter by her side. Daenerys was glad there was still someone who did not address them by their titles. Allyria was still their family and she knew it. “If you four stay here much longer, you are going to delay our return.”

“You miss King’s Landing that much?” Jon asked.

“I miss the Red Keep, not King’s Landing,” Allyria responded with a smirk, knowing each of them agreed.

“How long will you stay?” Daenerys asked, not wanting Allyria to leave. She knew it was an eventuality, but she knew once Allyria rode for Highgarden, they would no longer see her except for the occasional tourney in King’s Landing or the eventual progress through the Reach.

“A fortnight, no more. Willas wishes to return to Highgarden and prepare the Reach for winter. I told him there is nothing more to be done, but he insists we leave soon anyways,” Allyria answered. The Reach had lost the most men at Winterfell, but they also had the largest population and the most fertile lands. Daenerys knew their larders would be full and winter would not be so cruel to the people of the Reach. _Willas is overcautious. Better overcautious than an oaf like his father._

“You are always welcome in Maegor’s Holdfast. I hope you know that. You are our sister, no matter what your family name is. It is your home as much as it is ours,” Jon reminded Allyria, earning a thankful smile from her.

“It looks like your eldest are riding this way. I’ll leave you to it,” Allyria said after looking back toward the bend in the Kingsroad. Daenerys stepped away from Jon and walked to Rhaenys’ side to see Rhaegar and Arya racing each other on their small ponies. As soon as they passed Allyria riding in the other direction, they seemed to realize they were caught by the look in their eyes. Breaking off from the road, both came to a halt before them.

“I thought I told you to stay with your brothers and sisters, Rhaegar,” Jon scolded their son, causing her boy to dip his head apologetically. Daenerys could see through his act. She turned her head to Arya, who carefully held back the smirk playing on her lips, thinking she got away with her mischief. _You do not fool me Arya._

“I am sorry father,” Rhaegar apologized, though Daenerys paid it no mind. She was glad to see the panic on her daughter’s face. Far too many times, she knew her son took the blame for his sister’s actions. _At least she knows I know the truth._

“Just be careful little lad. The road is crowded and in poor conditions after the army has marched through,” Jon said, ruffling their son’s hair, earning a sweet laugh from their otherwise quiet son. _He is just like his father. How many times did Jon take the blame for my actions or Rhaenys’?_

“Can we go to the Kingswood?” Arya asked, pouting her lips and making her grey eyes as big as possible, trying to play on Jon’s weakness for their daughters’ pleas. _Ever since she visited the Wolfswood, all she wants to do is hunt stag and race her pony._

“Not today Arya. I will take you after the new year,” Jon promised.

“But father…,” Arya pleaded.

“Arya, you heard your father. And do not think you will get to hit any stags yourself,” Daenerys warned her daughter. _One day, she will sneak her bow without permission and kill some prey herself. I can see it in her eyes._

Daenerys watched as Jon approached Arya, knowing he could cool her temper more than herself. Resting a hand on their daughter’s shoulder, Jon calmed Arya, “I promise, we will visit the Kingswood and you can ride your pony as fast as you wish. Have I ever lied to you?”

“No,” Arya admitted before Jon kissed her brow.

“Now go find your brothers and sisters. They look up to both of you,” Jon ordered, earning a smile from both Arya and Rhaegar.

“Yes father,” both children said in unison, before pulling on the reins of their ponies and riding back to the wheelhouses that could not be far.

“Do not worry, they will be occupied exploring the Red Keep,” Rhaenys spoke up. Daenerys wasn’t so sure.

They waited a little longer, staring at the city until they caught sight of the wheelhouses carrying their children rolling down the Kingsroad. Daenerys climbed her mare and rode next to Jon as they fell in behind a few hundred riders belonging to their household guard. Rhaenys and Visenya were right behind them as they slowly made their way through the final two miles of road descending down the hills outside King’s Landing.

Making sure all their children were accounted for, Daenerys quickly glanced over her shoulder, past the Kingsguard, to see the eldest of their children riding their ponies. When she saw her mother, Elia, and Lyanna calmly riding behind them, she knew nothing was amiss. If there was, she would see it on their faces.

When they were just outside the walls of the city and passing the occasional house along the road, Daenerys saw their Small Council riding behind the wheelhouses. Behind them, she saw Arya Stark riding beside her husband, Gendry Baratheon. After them came the Tyrells and Martells. It felt odd, not having Allyria or Ashara riding amongst their family, but things had changed for the better, Daenerys thought. Allyria was now a wife and a mother, and Ashara finally found someone she could love.

As bend in the road came to an end, Daenerys returned her attention to the ground ahead. Peering over the knights ahead of her and through the Targaryen banners, she could see the end of the woodlands. The fields outside the walls of King’s Landing were only a few hundred feet away. There were already hundreds of smallfolk lining the road, cheering their names and heralding Jon as a returning hero.

Once they emerged from the treeline and the Dragon Gate was within sight, Daenerys swelled with pride. Targaryen banners billowed in the wind over the battlements while a large banner hung from the ramparts over the gate. Soldiers from the Vale and Dorne, left to protect the city, were standing above the walls with spears in hand. As best she could tell, the men hailed from Ironoaks and Blackmont, judging by their armor and the sigils on their banners.

Even outside the city walls, she could hear the cheers of the people for the returning army. She was not sure, but Daenerys thought she heard the celebratory screams of their Dothraki, glad to be reunited with their wives and children. After the battle against the Dead was won, Jon sent a raven to White Harbor, ordering their fleet to sail for Dragonstone and ferry the Dothraki women and children to King’s Landing. Their khalasar had been parted from their women and children long enough, they thought it best to reunite them sooner rather than later.

Daenerys looked to Jon one last time as they passed through the Dragon Gate, giving him a look of reassurance. She knew he hated the adoration and praise that was sure to come from the people of King’s Landing. Jon hated feasts and she knew he would hate this. _He would curse me if he knew of the ravens I sent to Varys._

There must have been thousands in the square inside the Dragon Gate and Daenerys could see hundreds of Dothraki amongst the people. Somehow, the loud cheers grew even louder. The people erupted when they saw the Targaryen banners ahead of them and cheered the return of a victorious King. Daenerys made sure the people knew what they did at Winterfell and told Varys that it must be known Jon killed the Night King. She and Rhaenys understood the value of spreading the tale, even if the returning soldiers were sure to spread it themselves.

As she waved to the smallfolk yelling their names, Daenerys heard the familiar roars of their dragons approaching the city. One by one, she spotted Drogon and Vermithrex flying over the street, toward the center of the city with the others close behind. She could see Vyraxes and Stormfyre weaving back and forth. Rhaegal and Kios eagerly spread their powerful screams that haunted so many of their enemies.

_King’s Landing will have to get used to their presence. And especially these people. The Dragon Pit will no longer stand a lifeless ruin any longer. Its name means something once again._

Lining the street, Daenerys noticed gold cloaks standing beside soldiers from Houses Velaryon and Selmy. She was glad Varys and the lords they left in place had recruited men for the depleted City Watch. Many of the men were likely selected to be Varys’ spies, but Daenerys did not worry herself too much.

The Spider was someone to be wary of, but he was their Master of Whispers and he had dozens of chances to betray them by now. It also comforted her to know Jon had selected Edd Tollett to be the new Lord Commander of the City Watch. By her estimation, the last Lord of the Night’s Watch was utterly loyal to Jon. _I shall place some spies of my own amongst their ranks._

As Daenerys bristled with pride for her husband earning the glory he so rightfully deserved, she was surprised to hear so many call the names of their Queens. She was puzzled by it at first until she pieced it together. Their flight at the last moment must have been told and spread through the taverns inside King’s Landing. Thousands had marched south in the months before them and it was not just Varys’ tales that had spread.

A cheer for Prince Rhaegar drew her attention from the people atop the balconies and windows of the homes at the end of the square to the people lining the street. Concerned how her timid son would react, she looked back, but could not see him behind Rhaenys. Arya embraced the attention, waving to the people with her braids lying perfectly in place for once.

Arya was wild and did her best to drive her mad sometimes, but seeing her riding through King’s Landing struck Daenerys. She knew children could change, but her daughter was everything her son would need in a queen. Daenerys felt tempted to betroth them knowing Arya would be a perfect Crown Princess for Rhaegar, but she wanted them to discover this on their own. _If they are meant for another, so be it._

It was not long before the procession was riding past the edge of the gardens surrounding the Dragon Pit. Daenerys could see the tips of the collapsed stone peaking above the trees surrounding the once great structure. Silverclaw and Myrax looked to already be taking up residence within the ruins on Rhaenys’ Hill. 

Determined not to let another tragedy occur, they planned to have barracks for the Unsullied built on Rhaenys’ Hill to protect the grounds from any intruders and ward off any mob should the people ever turn on them. _If it ever comes to that, I will not let baby dragons be slaughtered by religious fanatics._

Riding through the Street of the Sisters, Daenerys laid eyes upon the Guildhall of the Alchemists across the King’s Square, where all the main streets of the city met. The black-marbled building now stood abandoned after they had each of the alchemists beheaded for their alliance with Cersei Lannister. Daenerys’ father almost destroyed the city of King’s Landing and Cersei would have done the same if she was not stopped. They vowed wildfire would never return to the Seven Kingdoms, even if they were the ones to control it.

When they entered the King’s Square, Daenerys thought it was the loudest she had ever heard the smallfolk cheer for their King. At the very least, it seemed as great as the reception her brother received after returning from the Iron Islands after sieging Pyke and putting down the Greyjoy Rebellion. The memory was still hazy in her mind and she was just a little girl, but she was sure this was greater.

Targaryen banners were fluttering in the wind over every building around the square and hung from every window or balcony. The people of King’s Landing had always been quick to switch their allegiances, but Daenerys felt pride in their praise for their House. She would never be foolish enough to think they would never be susceptible to turning against them, but something felt different in this instance. There was a genuine reaction in the people’s cheers and faces that wasn’t Varys’ doing.

It wasn’t just the people of Westeros celebrating the victory. Tens of thousands of Dothraki were there, vowing to follow them wherever they led. Less than one in twenty of their riders perished in the North, but Daenerys still mourned their loss. Every face in the crowds was celebratory, but Daenerys knew some would be heartbroken to learn of the brothers, fathers, sons, and husbands they had lost. _They will be honored and their families taken care of. I swear it, as a Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea._

As Vyraxes and Rhaegal circled overhead, Daenerys heard the calls for King Jon grow louder and louder. Turning her gaze toward Jon riding at her side, she studied his pained smile, waving to the smallfolk as they passed through the King’s Square. He was convincing, far more so than when he was a prince. But Daenerys knew the truth and could see he hated everything about this. _He sees it as his duty. Not some great accomplishment or victory to be celebrated._

The sound of people calling her name stole her attention away from Jon for a brief moment to wave to the people who rarely got the chance to see their King and Queens. Giving herself a few more moments to acknowledge the onlookers, Daenerys looked to Jon again. She thought the only thing that could make him look more kingly was his Valyrian steel crown, but that was not Jon. _I will have to force him to wear it at court._

Daenerys wondered how many women in the crowd were admiring him like the lovesick maiden she felt like in the moment. He was everything she ever wanted. Jon looked strong and decisive in his furred winter cloak covering his gorget with a three-headed dragon etched in its steel. She could see Blackfyre’s pommel peeking out of his cloak and thought no one who had ever lived earned the right to wield the sword more than Jon. Not even Aegon the Conqueror. _He is my northern, Valyrian King. My dragonlord and King of Winter._

“Daenerys?” he asked in a near yell, breaking her stare. “Is something wrong?”

“No, everything is perfect,” she replied, forgetting all they had lost and all he had suffered. Jon returned a questioning look that eventually broke into a real smile he saved only for her or his sisters. Daenerys focused on the good and their family. This was meant to be a joyous day and she promised herself to look forward to their future.

Leaving the King’s Square and the thousands of onlookers, Daenerys found thousands more lining the final street that would take them to the gates of the Red Keep. They were nearly there and Daenerys wanted to race her mare to the open gates waiting for them. Impatience had finally crept into her mind and she was ready to be done with journeying across the world.

From atop her mare, Daenerys could see the Unsullied already marching up Aegon’s Hill to enter the walled off keep. Most of the Dothraki and Westerosi soldiers who marched ahead of them in the procession were breaking off from the street to turn right and left outside the walls of the Red Keep. The castle could only hold so many and most of the forces who would protect it were the Unsullied and the Targaryen household guard.

Before they could reach the end of the street lined with homes on either side leading to Aegon’s Hill, Drogon and Vermithrex led four of the other dragons in a flight over the seat of House Targaryen.  While still paying mind to the people on the street and those hanging out of the windows above, she tried to keep her eyes on the dragons flying close to the towers around Maegor’s Holdfast.

Daenerys could see her dream becoming a reality. She imagined waking in Jon’s arms every morning and making love to him before wandering onto the terrace outside their bedchambers. Even as she rode down the street, she could hear his footsteps behind her as she stood as naked as her nameday admiring the city below and the dragons dancing in the sky above. She wanted to watch every sunrise with Jon, Visenya, and Rhaenys. With every step across the cobbled street, that dream came closer to being her reality.

Several horns blasted from the battlements above the gate as they neared the Red Keep. Thousands more people were gathered, trying to see their family before they disappeared behind the protective walls. In either direction, the crowds went as far as the eye could see. Daenerys waved to her left and right, hoping the people felt their Queen cared for them. _We will need to be there for them. Winter is here and their lives will not be easy._

Passing through the gate with dozens of their soldiers lining their path, Daenerys found the courtyard a welcome sight. Several inches of snow covered the ramparts on the walls above and the parapets ahead. The yard itself was cleared with the snow shoveled along the walls. The Unsullied were already standing in perfect formation, waiting for them to arrive.

“Your Grace,” a stableboy approached once they halted in the center of the yard with hundreds of troops on either side. Daenerys dismounted her mare without assistance before handing the reins to the boy who carried a Flea Bottom accent. Trusting the boy with her favored horse, she turned on her heels to find her children being helped off their ponies by their household guard. Further back, she could see her mother stepping out of a wheelhouse with Daeron bundled in her arms.

Wishing to hold her youngest daughter, Daenerys passed Rhaenys as she handed her Dornish stallion off to another stableboy. She noticed Ser Oswell Whent follow her as she passed a giggling Senya and Dany. Daenerys gave each little girl a loving kiss on top of their silver braided hair as she continued her march toward the emptying wheelhouses.

“Thank you, Nivvi,” she said as her Dothraki handmaiden handed her a sleeping Rhaella. Her little daughter was growing bigger everyday and she knew it would not be long before her princess was running through the keep with her siblings.

Clutching the babe against her chest, Daenerys turned back toward Jon. As she approached, he finished speaking with several of their guards, likely giving commands for how the Red Keep should be protected. Noticing his eyes fall to their daughter in her arms, she stepped closer to him so he could leave a gentle kiss on their daughter’s brow.

“She is wonderful,” Jon nearly whispered.

“She is,” Daenerys confirmed, sliding her hand over the blankets protecting her youngest to ensure she would not get cold. _I will always protect you Rhaella. Your mother loves you._

“What do my Queens wish to do?” Jon asked as Visenya appeared with Alysanne in her arms and Rhaenys with Torrhen. He reminded her they had not discussed any plans for their return.

“The Seven Kingdoms can wait. I just want to retire to our chambers and gather around a warm hearth with our children,” Daenerys confessed, trusting Varys and the council they left in place maintained the Realm while they were away in the North.

“We agree,” Rhaenys affirmed her decision, earning an agreeing nod from Visenya.

“Then that is what we will do,” Jon said as she heard feet running across the yard.

“It seems the children have already decided for us,” Visenya observed with a smirk on her lips, much more tolerant of mischief than herself or Rhaenys. Daenerys always thought Visenya’s relaxed stance toward the children odd considering she adhered to her parents’ rules more than Rhaenys or herself when they were little.

“Snow! Go after them,” Daenerys ordered her direwolf. She carefully watched the white direwolf run across the yard to climb the stairs after the children running toward Maegor’s Holdfast. Ghost and Zokla were not far behind Snow with several Unsullied assigned to protect their children trying to keep pace.

“They already know the Red Keep,” Jon said with surprise in his voice.

“They are happy here,” Daenerys said, hoping her children would live happy childhoods within the keep she was raised. _I want them to explore the hidden passages and run through the halls. I want our sons sparring in the training yard while our daughters race their horses to the tourney grounds. I want them to remember this time, the years we are all together._

 

 

**Jon Targaryen**

It had only been a day since they returned to King’s Landing, but Jon saw his children were already well-adjusted to the Red Keep. The eldest princes and princesses already knew the halls and chambers of Maegor’s Holdfast well. He feared they would miss Winterfell or Dragonstone, having spent more time in either castle than the Red Keep. Those worries were ill-founded to his relief.

With Daenerys at his side in a light grey winter dress with a red cape, he glimpsed snowflakes falling past the windows of the Red Keep. Earlier in the morning, they had taken the children to the royal gardens, hoping they would remind the children of the Winterfell godswood considering the one inside the Red Keep was so small in comparison. Jon took that time to enjoy watching his children run across the snow-covered grounds with the direwolves chasing after them.

“It is snowing again,” Visenya observed behind them, walking beside Rhaenys. Jon looked back to see a smile on both their faces. Each wore winter dresses in similar fashion to Daenerys, only Rhaenys’ was a dark crimson while Visenya wore a dark blue. Like Daenerys, his sisters preferred a red cape held by a chained silver three-headed dragon.

“They will want to visit the gardens before the day is done,” Rhaenys reminded them of the children’s insistence of playing in the snow. It took some effort to finally gather them all and bring them back inside the Red Keep. The North had made their sons and daughters even more adventurous. Nothing on the Kingsroad replaced the Wolfswood or the Winterfell godswood. _We are lucky they have not learned to hide from us yet._

“On the morrow,” Daenerys replied. They would not have the time to spare for the children. They were already on their way to the first Small Council meeting since they returned and the hours after would be spent in the Throne Room to receive lords, ladies, knights, and smallfolk coming to bend the knee. Jon knew he would be unable to escape such matters.

“I can receive the petitioners in the Throne Room alone. You do not need to be there. I can see it in your eyes,” he said looking to each of his wives as they rounded the corner with the Small Council Chamber at the end of the hallway. “You miss the babes more than I.”

“We will stay for the first hour or two,” Daenerys answered after looking to Rhaenys and Visenya. He could sense the hesitation in her voice. She wanted to rule by his side and was always reluctant to dismiss the duties she had put on herself.

“Is there still a feast planned for the Great Hall tonight?” Visenya asked with little enthusiasm.

“Do not complain sister. We can achieve many things at these feasts,” Rhaenys added. Jon hated to admit it, but he knew she was right. He detested everything about feasts in their court, but they had enough food for winter and he had learned to use such events to his advantage from Rhaenys and Daenerys. “And I have been meaning to speak with each of you. Do you mind if I make some changes to the servants working in the keep?”

“Unless they are a spy or committed some crime, make sure they find some work,” Jon requested. Winter was going to be hard on every man, woman, and child in Westeros. He did not want to be responsible for taking the coin out of any person’s pocket.

“Of course,” Rhaenys said as they approached the entrance of the Small Council Chamber guarded by two members of their household guard.

“Your Graces!” each of the men and women in the room echoed as soon as he set a foot inside the chamber. The table used by his father’s council was gone. Instead, the table Jon began to walk around was far larger to accommodate their additional advisors and commanders for the time being. _It wouldn’t be accurate to call it the Small Council today._

The lords and ladies left to rule King’s Landing with Varys stood from their chairs at the end closest to the entrance. Jon made sure to give each a nod before continuing toward the King’s seat with Daenerys following close behind. When he finally reached his chair at the head of the table, Jon waited for his Queens to reach their chairs before sitting down.

Once they were seated, all of the lords and ladies inside the Chamber followed suit. Jon gave a quick glance toward Daenerys to his right, silently asking her if she was ready. He did the same with Visenya seated next to Daenerys and Rhaenys to his left. Seeing his Queens were ready to commence with the meeting, he turned his gaze to Varys.

“Lord Varys, tell us of King’s Landing,” he decreed looking to their Master of Whispers seated on the left side of the table after Ser Barristan Selmy and Ser Jorah Mormont.

“More smallfolk enter the city gates every day, but their numbers are dwindling. With the Dothraki from Dragonstone now camped outside the walls, we will need to take some of the food saved for the armies,” Varys informed him. Jon had expected this. They still had plenty of food from the Reach and Essos saved for winter. Much of it had already been sent across the Seven Kingdoms with the lords returning south from Winterfell.

“See it done. Lord Monford, when can we expect the fleet to be ready to sail and ferry the khalasar to Pentos?” he asked the Master of Ships seated after Varys.

“Ten days, a fortnight at the most, your Grace,” Lord Monford Velaryon replied, giving him an honest estimation. The Lord of Driftmark had informed him after White Harbor that winter slowed the men more than he had expected. “It is hard to say with winter here. The men working the docks and sailing the ships are not used to the cold or snow.”

“Good. Rakharo, will the khalasar be ready by then?” he asked his bloodrider near the end of the table. Jon could see Kovarro and Qhono nodding their heads in confirmation.

“Yes, Khal Jon,” Rakharo spoke in his broken common tongue.

“What else is there?” Daenerys asked.

“Barracks for the Unsullied are nearly complete. Lord Arstan saw to that,” Varys revealed. “Lady Larra and Lord Aurane have overseen repairs to the gates and walls. I fear the Mud Gate and King’s Gate will take longer to restore, your Grace.” _Rhaenys._

“And what of crime in the city?” he asked, wondering if things had gotten worse or better in their absence.

“My little birds found the thieves raiding the larders and Lady Anya’s men threw the thieves in the black cells. Besides the occasional drunken tavern fight, the violence has been kept in check. Winter is keeping the smallfolk in their homes for the most part,” Varys added. “But with more soldiers in the city, the crime will increase.”

“I will speak with the new Lord Commander of the City Watch. Grey Worm, organize patrols around the city with Kovarro and Qhono,” Jon ordered, knowing the measure was only temporary with the Dothraki’s departure imminent.

“My King,” Grey Worm accepted the order before looking to the bloodriders he had planned many battles with.

“Lord Royce, see to it each of the prisoners in the black cells are tried for their crimes. Those who are guilty shall be punished and those who are innocent shall be let free. We do not need any more mouths to feed,” Jon said, knowing some of the prisoners may die in the cells from the cold if they stayed down there much longer.

“Lord Royce, one more thing. There shall be a new law in the Realm, any harm brought to a dragon or direwolf is punishable by death,” Visenya told their Master of Laws. Jon could tell Yohn thought the law meaningless since many would not dare to attack one of the beasts. “We trust you to write the law and its details.”

“As you wish, your Grace. The ravens will be sent out before nightfall,” Royce replied with a stern look on his face, sitting next to Lords Stannis Baratheon and Davos Seaworth. Their Hand was seated next to Visenya and Jon could sense he was still uncomfortable holding more power than the man who knighted him.

“Trade has also resumed with the cities across the Narrow Sea. Trade with Braavos and Pentos has increased fourfold since you retook the city. The merchants are favorable to the new taxes. And more ships are coming from Myr, Tyrosh, and Lys. Lord Aurane has been receiving emissaries from Ibben and the Summer Isles. They wish to negotiate trade terms and a peace agreement,” Varys added.

“I will speak with the emissaries at the feast. Lord Ardrian, we will speak later regarding the taxes on imports from Essos,” Jon said, wishing to keep the details of his plans a secret until they were finalized with the Master of Coin. Now that they ruled all the trading ports from White Harbor to Qarth, Jon decided their tax policy could be changed for the better. He wanted to ease taxes on goods traded from one part of the Realm to another while keeping taxes in place for goods coming from outside their lands.

“Is there anything else regarding King’s Landing before we move on?” Jon asked, looking to Davos who had met with everyone at the table beforehand.

“It has come to my attention, thanks to Lady Larra, that there are many orphans in the city. Winter is here and they need food. They need shelter and clothing,” Davos said. Jon could see he cared about this issue. _I do not blame him. A son of Flea Bottom, he knows better than most._

“Anything you need to help them my Lady, come to me and Missandei,” Daenerys told Lady Larra Blackmont, who sat at the far end of the table.

“Thank you, your Grace,” Larra Blackmont replied, before nodding to Missandei. Lady Larra only reaffirmed his decision to leave her behind to rule King’s Landing in their absence. The Lady of Blackmont was a beautiful woman of similar age to his mother and commanded the respect of the men who served her. _It seems she has the respect of the lords who have worked with her. She is far more competent than most of them._

“There is also the matter of Visenya’s Hill,” Davos added to his displeasure. Jon had yet to decide what they would build over the destroyed Great Sept of Baelor.

“When the snows clear, we will begin removing the rubble. Until then, I still have not decided what will come to stand there,” Jon said, seeing the agreement on his Hand’s face. Jon knew Davos was pleased they were not wasting gold on another sept instead of the people. Even happier than his hand was his Master of Coin. Lord Ardrian detested the Faith and Jon knew the Lord of Crab Isle would lobby for the Crown spending its gold on far more important projects.

“What news do you have from Essos?” Daenerys pushed the meeting forward.

“Unpleasant news, I am afraid. Several sellsword companies have banded together along the Orange Shore. They plan to take Volon Therys, then Valysar and Selhorys after,” Varys informed them.

“Did they not learn what our dragons could? Do they think we will let this happen?” Visenya asked, already fuming about another potential war. _He has more to say. We will not fly to Essos unless we have to._

“I am afraid not, your Grace. One of my little birds has made it into their camp and the captains believe the war and winter will keep you in Westeros. They have seven thousand men and their numbers are growing. There are still many sellswords hiding in the Disputed Lands and the hills outside Chroyane that are in need of gold,” Varys replied.

“Let them build their army. Our enemies will come out of hiding and come to their side. Send word to Malaquo Maegyr and have him assemble the Volantene army. He is to attack these sellswords where he thinks best,” Jon said, trusting the former triarch was competent enough to defeat the sellswords’ inferior numbers.

“We will kill your enemies for you!” Qhono spoke in Dothraki, eager to return to a fight. Jon expected this, knowing Qhono was more prone to enter a war than Kovarro or Rakharo.

“You do not need to fight this war. I will not ask it of the khalasar,” Jon offered. _Qhono will ensure a victory, but the Dothraki have bled enough for us._

“Killing our Khal and Khaleesis’ enemies is our greatest honor. Let me kill your enemies. They are my enemies,” Qhono asked.

Jon turned to his Queens, looking for their approval before giving his answer. “You are to take thirty-thousand riders and sail to Volon Therys. Kovarro and Rakharo will lead the rest of the khalasar to Pentos and from there, Vaes Dothrak.”

Seeing the puzzled faces on his Westerosi advisors, Jon relayed his orders in the common tongue. From there, the focus of the meeting shifted to the Jade Gates and Qarth’s efforts to hold the Strait of Qarth. A small fleet from the east had attempted to displace their hold of the trade route, but failed. No longer in need of several thousand ships they had brought to Westeros, Jon ordered Monford Velaryon to send the Essosi captains with their ships to Qarth and the Bay of Dragons. Most of the fleet would still remain in Blackwater Bay, Pentos, and Braavos. Jon decided their furthest holdings were the only ones requiring additional ships to supplement their already growing fleets.

After discussing how their fleets would protect the Summer Sea from unknown fleets from the Jade Sea and corsairs along the coast of Sothoryos, Daenerys announced Naath would fall under the protection of House Targaryen. Missandei did not ask for it, but Jon was happy to see their loyal friend and advisor fight off her brimming joy. Daenerys’ proclamation was also for all the slaves they had freed in Essos who had been stolen away from Naath.

Daenerys had come up with the idea to protect the island of Naath. After a long discussion on the Kingsroad, Jon agreed with his Queens to help the vulnerable Naathi, but no more. There were many settlements along the northern coast of Sothoryos that were preyed upon, but Jon knew there were unknown dangers on the continent. He was not willing to extend their Realm or send an army into lands that were known to bring disease and other terrible ends to foreigners.

To Jon’s surprise, Varys informed them the Bay of Dragons had remained peaceful in their absence. No revolts, assassinations, or trade conflicts had taken place amongst the cities they ruled. _It will not last forever. There are still noble families left who will seek the power they lost._

Eventually, the Small Council’s attention fell to Arianne Martell. A Norvoshi messenger sent by Lady Mellario had been waiting in King’s Landing to bring news from Norvos and Qohor. Arianne had already informed Rhaenys of the Qohorik constructing two new settlements along the Qhoyne and a fishing village where the Forest of Qohor met the Shivering Sea.

After telling the room of Qohor, Arianne informed the Small Council of the completion of a stone wall protecting the city of Norvos. Arianne’s mother had also sent word that Norvos could field an army of ten thousand men if House Targaryen called upon them. Jon was concerned for the city’s weak defenses when they had left it behind on the journey to the Dothraki Sea. _It is good they have more men, but it does not mean they can truly fight._

Braavos had also sent an emissary informing them of the reconstruction of its navy. Unlike the Braavosi fleets of the past, this one sailed with black sails and served House Targaryen. Aurane Velaryon informed them the Braavosi was seeking an audience in the Throne Room to discuss the city and its trade with Lorath. Besides Aurane telling them the Lorathi had purchased ten ships from Braavos, they heard nothing from the city that joined the Realm without a war. _They pay their taxes, follow our laws, and keep the peace. If only all of Essos was the same._

When Visenya asked Varys of Lys and Pentos, their Master of Whispers had nothing to report, other than the councils left to rule the cities were following their wishes. Jon was still suspicious of Illyrio Mopatis, but there was nothing to indicate treachery or corruption on the magister’s part. Like Pentos, Lys was sending large sums of gold to Dragonstone and the cities were prospering with increased trade and safer routes along the Summer and Narrows Seas.

The last of the former Free Cities to be discussed were Tyrosh and Myr. The Tyroshi were asking for more coin to repair their gates and harbor, while Myr pleaded for more ships to protect its coast from pirates.  Both complained of taxes levied by the other after they had already dictated such taxes to be illegal. Varys informed them of the more corrupt members of the ruling councils they left in place. _Their fates will be dealt with after, once everyone is gone._

“Ten war galleys will be sent to the Myrish navy after the khalasar is ferried to Pentos,” Rhaenys addressed the issue of Myr as they had discussed before the meeting. Jon saw the apprehension of Monford Velaryon’s face as Rhaenys made their decision known. _He wouldn’t spare any of our ships if it were his decision._ “Now, I was told a raven arrived this morning from Casterly Rock.”

“Lord Jaime is requesting more wheat, barley, cattle, and so forth. It seems the food sent with the lords of the Westerlands was not enough to carry them through winter. Lannisport has enough in its larders to last two years, no more,” Varys replied, holding the small raven scroll in his hand. _The Westerlands are already bringing us trouble._

“And does Lord Jaime and his bannermen have the gold to pay for more food?” Ardrian Celtigar asked with a smirk on his lips, already knowing the answer. _They do not._

“The Lannisters spent all their gold and the Rock’s mines are bare. We all know Cersei was treating with the Iron Bank,” Stannis added with pure hatred at the mere mention of Cersei from his own mouth. Jon knew if Stannis were King, Jaime’s head would have been placed on a spike and House Lannister stripped of its lands, titles, and what little gold it had left.

“Oathbreakers and liars. Let them fend for themselves,” Yohn Royce added.

“We cannot leave an entire city and its surrounding lands to starve,” Davos argued, giving the Master of Laws a dismissive look.

“They should have…,” Yohn Royce protested before Jon had enough.

“We are Seven Kingdoms, not six. The westermen bent the knee and fought by our side in the North. We did not fight a war against the Dead to let men, women, and children starve. The smallfolk did not decide which side they were on and they will be the first to suffer in winter,” Jon interrupted Lord Royce, making sure every man and woman at the table understood where House Targaryen stood in regard to protecting the smallfolk.

“Lord Willas, does Goldengrove and Old Oak have food to spare?” Daenerys asked. She knew as well as Jon they were the closest to the Westerlands with plentiful lands with fertile ground.

“Yes, your Grace. Both had record harvests in the summer and fall. I will write to Lord Mathis and Lord Jeremy,” Willas answered with Allyria sitting to his right.

“Houses Rowan and Oakheart will be compensated,” Visenya added, sensing Willas’ trepidation. _Lord Mathis is dutiful and will do as we command, but I do not know Jeremy Oakheart well._

“Are there any more concerns in the Reach or the Westerlands?” Jon asked.

“Bandits from the Red Mountains have been raiding the Roseroad for several months now. It has been a problem across the Realm while the war was fought in the North, but these have been the only ones to last. Some say they number over two hundred men,” Varys responded, turning his attention toward Willas Tyrell.

“I will send word to Leyton Hightower and Martyn Mullendore. They will raise a small host and push them back into the mountains,” Willas replied.

“Tell them to wait. Dorne will deal with these criminals,” Arianne Martell leaned forward, confident the Dornish would succeed where the men of the Reach failed.

“My father will know where these bandits hide in the Red Mountains. I will send word to Starfall and he will have men waiting in the mountains when your lords push them back,” Edric Dayne told Willas, earning a nod from the Lord of Highgarden. _For once, Houses Tyrell and Martell do not wish to see the other destroyed._

“The Stormlands?” Jon questioned Stannis, trusting he would know of any concerns that would need to be brought before the Small Council.

“Most of my lords have returned to their keeps and are readying for winter,” Stannis answered, reminding Jon the snows had not yet reached as far south as Haystack Hall or Bronzegate. “Lady Estermont did send a raven, reporting pirates along the coast. Are you sure this Salladhor Saan can be trusted with the Stepstones, my King?”

“I can speak for the Lord of Stepstones. He may have been a pirate, but he has always kept his word. If pirates are sailing from the Stepstones, they do not serve him,” Davos defended his friend. _If he does not secure the sea passages, I will find a new Lord of the Stepstones._

“If I may, your Grace?” Aurane Velaryon spoke up. Jon gave him a look, telling him to continue. “Give me leave and I will lead a small fleet to the Stepstones. Any pirates left will meet the King’s justice.” _He wishes to be Corlys the Sea Snake. Fine, we will let him as long as the Narrow Sea is secured._

“I will leave it to you and the Master of Ships to determine the resources required for your endeavor,” Jon said, earning an approving look from Monford Velaryon. Trusting House Velaryon to rule the seas for House Targaryen, Jon continued, “What of the Vale and Riverlands?”

“Nothing of importance from the Vale. Only heavy snows making it difficult for travels to cross the mountain roads and Gulltown has taken in more smallfolk from the countryside,” Davos informed him. Jon could see Visenya was disappointed to not have received a raven from the Eyrie. _She wishes to hear from Sansa._

“The riverlords are already asking for assistance to rebuild the keeps, holdfasts, and towns damaged during the war,” Ser Jorah Mormont added, causing a few around the table to grumble.

“How do they plan to build with the winter snows covering the Riverlands?” Visenya asked, knowing the answer.

“Tell the riverlords, House Targaryen is true to its word. When the snows clear, we will send men, coin, and the necessary supplies to rebuild the Riverlands. Until then, they should concern themselves with feeding and sheltering their people,” Jon ordered the Master of Coin before looking to Grand Maester Pylos near the end of the table. _He will have many ravens to send before the day is over._

“Now if that is all, my Queens and I are required in the Throne Room,” Jon said as he stood from his chair at the head of the table. Daenerys, Rhaenys, and Visenya rose from their chairs with him before the rest of the council stood with them. “Before we leave, I must thank you Lord Varys. Lord Arstan. Lady Anya. Lady Larra. Lord Aurane. Each of you served the Realm and have begun to rebuild this city after it has suffered so much. House Targaryen will always remember what you did here and I promise, I will not forget it.”

“It was our honor to serve our King and Queens, your Graces,” Lady Larra Blackmont responded with a small curtsy.

The others on their council bowed their heads as Jon followed Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur out of the chamber with Rhaenys at his left, clutching his arm as they entered the hallway that led to the Throne Room. Jon dreaded this more than anything else. He knew his squire waited with the crown he would have to wear as he sat upon the Iron Throne. _It will never feel right wearing the damn thing._

Once the side entrance to the Throne Room came within sight, Jon’s thoughts moved from thinking his brother or father should be there to the small matters that would soon be brought before him. Only they were not small matters. His father always reminded him every story, plea for aid, or otherwise from the citizens of the Realm mattered. _I am the King of the Realms of Men, not the King of Lords and Knights._

“Are you well?” Rhaenys asked, carefully eyeing him as they passed under the marbled archway into the dim passage that cut a direct path to the elevated gallery that ran the length of the Throne Room.

“What?” he responded, not feeling sick or tired.

“You look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders,” Rhaenys explained with a comforting squeeze on his arm.

“Just reminding myself what Aegon or Father would do,” he confessed with a pained smile. He could see the disagreement in her eyes and turned away as the light filtering through the stained glass of the Throne Room illuminated the end of their path.

“Remind yourself of what you would do. Father was a great king. Aegon would have been a great king. You will be greater than them both, my love. We believe in you and will always be by your side,” Rhaenys swore. Jon wanted to argue her point, but was defeated by the crashing of her lips against his. Before others could see their stolen kiss, Rhaenys pulled away with hooded eyelids that easily seduced him.

No longer in the presence of just their Kingsguard, Jon let their affections end there. Waiting for them at the steps of the Iron Throne stood Alyn Blackwood and three handmaidens holding their crowns in boxes lined with red velvet. He reached for the Valyrian steel crown worn by his father, but Rhaenys lifted the crown first. She wasn’t going to let him, a squire, or some maid place it on his head.

While Rhaenys carefully raised her arms over his head, he took the moment to admire her beauty. Her dark violet eyes were dancing back and forth as he felt the tips of the cool steel hitting the top of his brow. If they were alone, he knew he would take her right there as she leveled the crown and carefully ran her gentle fingers through his hair.

“There, my perfect King,” she said, retreating to her crown as Visenya and Daenerys helped each other with their own. Jon took his turn, grabbing the ruby studded Valyrian steel crown for his Queen. Carefully, he traced his fingers over the dragonscaled band and flamed points before lifting it in the air over Rhaenys.

Jon knew Rhaenys was born to be a Queen the moment her crown was settled upon her intricate braids. There was no need to readjust its place on her head or twist it so that it was centered. She looked almost as perfect as she did when it was just them, alone in their chambers. Jon felt lucky, knowing the world would never know the Rhaenys Targaryen he knew. _They see the Queen, the conqueror, the beauty, and the dragonrider. They do not see the wife or mother. They do not see the sister or lover._

As he tucked away a few loose strands of hair, Jon wished he had the proper words for Rhaenys. He hoped she saw his love as he turned to take his place upon the Iron Throne. He was bound by his duty as King and kept his eyes from lingering.

Always graceful, his Queens took their places upon the elegant chairs next to the Iron Throne. While they served as his Queens’ thrones and were worthy of many queens in history, he did not think they were fit for a Queen of House Targaryen. Jon thought they deserved more. _They deserve an iron throne for themselves._

He could not remember when, but Jon had offered to forge new thrones for his queens. Each refused, reminding him there should always remain one Iron Throne. It was as symbol of their power and strength. More thrones would diminish what it stood for. And Daenerys was quick to warn him there would not always be three Queens and the Realm’s next Queen may not be a Targaryen.

Echoes of boots crossing the marbled stones to his right alerted Jon to the entrance of the Small Council and the lords and ladies closest to them. As each man and woman took their places in the Throne Room, Jon looked to Daenerys and Visenya to see if they were ready. Both held confident faces, telling him it was time.

“Send them in!” Jon announced just loud enough for the household guard and Unsullied standing at the doors across the hall.

 

The sun had begun to fall when he left the Dothraki camps outside the walls of King’s Landing and now he could see the sky had turned to black. Jon made sure to walk amongst the khalasar every day since they left Winterfell and found himself spending more time with them as of late. In two days’ time, the Dothraki would board the ships on the Blackwater Rush and sail across the Narrow Sea for Pentos.

While Jon took the long climb up the stairs of Maegor’s Holdfast, it suddenly hit him that he no longer worried for the actions of the khalasar. For years, he feared the Dothraki would break from his laws and return to raping and pillaging. The more fervent of their riders had every chance to turn to their old ways in Westeros. Instead, every man in the khalasar respected their rule and did not turn to banditry or killing along the Kingsroad. _They will not fail us. Not now._

After leaving the stairs, Jon was ready to round the final corner leading to the King’s Chambers until he spotted Arya Stark standing at the window at the end of the hallway. Departing from his intended path, he walked toward his cousin, suspecting she could hear his approach despite her purposeful focus on the Blackwater below. Even as he took the empty space before the window, she did not turn to look at him.

“You were quicker than I expected,” he mused, looking out at the moonlight reflecting off Blackwater Bay. They were difficult to make out, but he could see several ships sailing from the city, toward the open sea. “A well fought match.”

“You’re a terrible liar. You let me win,” Arya replied, finally turning to face him.

“I do not lie and I did not let you win,” he argued, believing his own words were convincing.

“Like I said, you are a terrible liar. I am better than most, but not you, or Ser Arthur or Visenya,” she replied, throwing a quick glance to the Kingsguard standing behind them.

“You are nervous,” he observed, sensing something in her voice. They had been separated for years, but Jon still felt he knew his cousin better than any. They shared a close bond the moment they met in Winterfell many years ago. “You miss Winterfell.”

“Winterfell was always home, but it is not the same. It wasn’t the same the day you left for Essos. Sansa is in the Eyrie. Bran will be at Moat Cailin. You, Visenya, and Daenerys will be here in King’s Landing. Father is gone,” Arya said with a sadness that showed her true feelings. He did not know what to say, leaving a silence between them as he remembered his fostering in the North.

“Does Gendry make you happy?” Jon asked, never having asked her before.

“He does,” she replied with her lips curling into a true smile. Jon was glad to hear it, wanting the best for her. _If he ever betrays her or disrespects her, I will have his head on a spike._ “What is Storm’s End like?”

“It’s like Winterfell I suppose,” he said, earning a raised eyebrow from Arya. _She sees through my lies. She knows me too well._ “You will like it more than King’s Landing. It stands on the cliffs of Shipbreaker Bay and has woods for hunting. The winds can be strong coming off the sea, but it has high walls and it can be welcoming in the summer.”

Arya knew him well, but Jon was afraid he could not read her thoughts like she had his. Her feelings on Storm’s End and her future were a mystery to him. _She said Gendry makes her happy. That should be all that matters in the end._

“I must confess, it is selfish, but I am glad you are here. I am happy my children will grow up, close with their cousins. I know Allyria feels the same,” he said, hoping he would not come to regret the words. Arya never spoke of children or marriage, ever.

“I never wanted children or a husband. That wasn’t me,” Arya said, pausing to contemplate her next words. Jon could see she looked regretful about her admission. “But that was before I realized I could lose everyone. The night we left Winterfell down the Kingsroad, I knew I could not give him up. I saw Visenya’s grief and fear when she thought she lost you. It was then I decided I did not want to be alone.”

“I promise not to tell Sansa what you said,” he jested, earning a soft hit on his arm from Arya. “Let us return to our family. I know my children will wish to see their Aunt Arya.”

“Aye,” she agreed, stepping away from the window with him. The hallway was lit with braziers and guarded by a dozen Unsullied standing at every doorway along their path. There was no sign of the direwolves standing guard, telling him none of the children had found their beds early in the night.

“Your Grace, Lady Baratheon,” Ser Barristan said as he stood outside the chambers with Garlan Tyrell. The rest of the Kingsguard were gone for the night, retired to their chambers in the White Sword Tower. Garlan held the door open for Jon and Arya to pass. Inside, he found their family sitting around the great hearth in the large solar that could hold dozens of people if they wished.

“Father!” Daenys came running from the direction of the bedchambers alone. Daenys liked to explore things on her own and Jon gladly picked her up as she came running in his direction with her silver hair bouncing freely. “I miss you. Where were you?”

“Speaking with your Aunt Arya, but I am here now my little dragon,” he replied, looking for his cousin. As he shifted his feet with Daenys in his arms, he found Arya sitting with Gendry. Allyria and Willas were speaking with them as Ashara held Elys Tyrell. His Uncle Benjen caught his gaze and Jon returned his greeting before moving to find an empty space on the couch across from the hearth.

“Daenys, go find us a place around the hearth,” he whispered, placing her back down on the floor before she scurried around the couch. Minding Blackfyre on his hip, Jon unbuckled his sword belt and laid his ancestral sword upon the table behind the couch Daenys had already stood on, earning laughs from Daenerys and Visenya sitting on either side.

Finally, free from his duties as the King of the Seven Kingdoms, Jon relaxed and made his way to his family. His mother smiled with Vaella in her arms as she sat in the chair to the right of the couch. Jon could also see his grandmother speaking with Elia and Arianne Martell as each held sleeping babes in their arms.

Careful to avoid his sons, Daemon and Benjen who played on the floor with wood-carved dragons, Jon stepped over them. Doing so earned a smirk from Daenerys as he sat next to her after lifting Daenys off the couch. Jon saw Daenerys had her hands full with two babes and scooped Princess Rhaella from her arms.

“She misses her father,” Daenerys said as his daughter began to reach for his beard, now awake in his arms.

As he settled into the couch, Daenys sat on his lap, trying to entertain her little sister. This had become their routine since returning to the Red Keep. His days were long and arduous. He would somehow find time to spar with his Kingsguard in the morning before a small council meeting. Then he would receive petitioners in the Throne Room for two or three hours before another small council meeting. The rest of his days were spent with the Dothraki, giving farewells and thanking his khalasar for their loyalty even if they did not seek it. _The Dothraki do not even have a word to give thanks._

What he looked forward to more than anything was this. His eldest were huddled close to the blazing hearth, unaffected by its warmth no matter how long or how close they sat by it. Arya, of course, was the first of his children to touch the flames. She had not repeated the action after warning her the little ones could be hurt. They were not sure all their children were immune to the flames and he did not want to test it.

“We are going with you each day until the khalasar leaves,” Daenerys said as he felt her head lean on his shoulder. To his left, he could feel Visenya already inching closer to him with Alysanne in her grasp. When he looked past Visenya, he saw Rhaenys holding their youngest daughter close to her chest, rocking the babe to sleep.

“Are you sure? You do not need to,” he said even if it was pointless. He knew her answer.

“We are Khaleesis of the Great Grass Sea. They are our khalasar. They deserve our presence before they leave and I want to,” Daenerys proclaimed before nuzzling herself into his side.

Jon took the peaceful moment to look around the solar, thanking whatever gods had saved him and returned him to this. He presumed he would never know why, but he was more grateful than any man in the Realm. But it wasn’t Melisandre’s magic or some fire god that brought him back. He had returned, but it was Daenerys’ love that made him feel alive. It was Visenya’s gentle kisses in the morning as she woke him from his sleep and helped him prepare for each day. It was Rhaenys’ seductive Dornish accent that she could call on when she needed it and the fire she lit within him. _Without them, I would have died in the North._

“Thank you,” he said, low enough for only Daenerys and Visenya to hear.

“For what?” Daenerys asked with a furrowed brow.

“Saving me. Helping me get back to where we were. For being patient when you didn’t need to be. I am sorry I haven’t been the husband I should be,” he said as Daenys let her baby sister pull on her silver mane.

“Back to where we were? You returned to me the man I fell in love with. You have nothing to be sorry for,” Daenerys told him. He wanted to believe her, but he felt different.

“I don’t understand, why would you think that?” Visenya asked, leaning closer as if she could find the answer by looking into his eyes.

“I know I kept you up at nights. I have seen how hard it has been, with me when the babes should have had all your focus. I was selfish and…,” he paused as Rhaenys came to kneel before him with Princess Allyria still in her arms. She must have overheard their whispers by the concerned look on her face. It pained him, just looking into her eyes. He felt the guilt weighing on him even more as he let it all come out. “I…I should have been there, supporting you with our children.”

“Why did you not tell us how you felt in Winterfell? You gave your…,” Rhaenys hesitated, remembering Daenys in his arms as she looked down at their daughter. “You gave everything to save us. And you were always there for our children, every day. I cannot remember a morning you did not hold our babes after they came into this world.”

“Do you think we care about lost sleep? You would do anything for us and we would do anything for you,” Visenya added with a quiver on her chin and a tremble in her voice. Jon felt like he would have broken down there if it was only them in the solar.

“Don’t be sad father. Don’t be sad,” his little girl said, picking up on his mood. It crushed him as Daenys’ small arms wrapped around his neck as she tried to hug him and make it feel better. Making it worse, he noticed she was careful not crush her sister, Rhaella, still in his arms.

“I’m not sad, my little princess. Your sister and I are glad you are here to keep us company,” he said in a hoarse voice as he returned her hug with a comforting hand on her back.

“Daenys, go sit with your brothers and sisters around the fire. Go,” Rhaenys gently said, causing his daughter to ease her hold around his neck before hopping down onto the bearskin rug below. He watched her leave, carefully avoiding Daemon and Benjen, to join her sisters clad in similar grey winter dresses. He was not left much time to admire his daughter’s warm spirit when Rhaenys moved in to sit on the edge of couch between his legs.

“You died for us, Jon. Don’t be a fool my love. I want you to tell us when you are in pain. You have always been strong for us and protected us. We promised one another to help you heal. You never said it, but we could see the hurt and fear in your eyes. Look at you with Rhaella right now. All I see is a father who has loved his daughter with everything he has since the day she came into this world,” Daenerys whispered before sealing her lips with his. _I do not deserve her._ When she finally pulled away, he watched her amethyst eyes open again, reminding him of her beauty as they always had. “I love you.”

“I love you, Dany,” he said before Rhaenys’ hand cupped his jaw and turned his head to receive her searing kiss. He nearly laughed as she bit his lip even when she was sad for him. _I pray her fire and passion never goes out._

Seconds after Rhaenys’ lips were broken from his, Visenya took their sister’s place, gently tracing her tongue along his bottom lip. He always savored Visenya’s soft touch that could always turn to a fiery desire he learned to unlock after their first time in Qarth. _I should have seen and felt her love before I did. Before Daenerys told me._

“I love you both, more than you know,” Jon said, looking to both of his sisters.

“We know, my love,” Visenya said before Rhaenys turned and carefully rested her back against his chest, making sure to give him room to hold Rhaella in his right arm. Daenerys began to coo over their lively daughter who was now one year old. “I want it to be like this, forever.”

“Aye,” he agreed as they watched Rhaegar and Arya pointing at the flames in the hearth, telling some story to their siblings. “It is hard to imagine how much they have grown. I still remember when each of them were little babes, wanting to be held by their mother.”

“We should do this, every night, no matter what. Just us and our family,” Rhaenys mused.

“At least until they are old enough and no longer wish to be in our presence,” Daenerys jested. _I wish it weren’t true, but it is._

“I hope their childhood does not pass us by too quickly,” Visenya confessed.

For the rest of the night, Jon imagined what the children’s lives would look like in the coming years. He wanted them to be happy and enjoy a life, wanting for naught. Jon wanted them to think of Dragonstone and Summerhall as home, even the Red Keep. He wanted his eldest sitting by the fire to lead their younger siblings and look out for them. He pictured them seeing the Realm on royal progresses and learning what it meant to be a Targaryen. He wondered how he would teach them right from wrong and the responsibility they would hold, even if they hadn’t asked for it.

Jon felt pride swell within himself after his wives burnt away his fears and gave him hope for their future. A future where they would always be by his side and he would always love them. He wanted that future and swore to himself to protect it at all costs. And the future they dreamt also meant their children carrying on their legacy and learning what it meant to be the blood of the dragon, what it meant to bring fire and blood.

That night, Jon slept easily with Daenerys, Rhaenys, and Visenya in his arms. And when he dreamt, he dreamt of House Targaryen’s future. _He could see his Queens standing on their terrace at Summerhall in the early morning sunlight. Arya was several years older and reaching for Rhaegal’s green-scaled snout. Rhaegar was sitting beside him in a small council meeting. Two dragons circled over their khalasar on the Dothraki Sea. He looked upon a castle in the snow he had never seen before. Lastly, he saw each of his children grown and with children of their own inside the Great Hall of Dragonstone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is, the final chapter. I decided not to keep the deaths to a minimum considering the living were better prepared, well-trained, & had larger army w/ dragons. Bran isn't up to some evil plot, but he did let things happen without warning anyone. Not entirely pleased w/ how I depicted the effects of Jon's death on himself, but I did the best I could. 
> 
> Did not think I would finish my first fic when I was writing the first four or five chapters. I believe I learned from mistakes. If I did it over again, I would have handled the Riverlands/war plot & House Tyrell better. I also wish I had given more time to characters like Ashara Dayne, Jorah Mormont, Missandei, & others. Definitely would have avoided the number of Targ kids, but I guess it gives me a lot of options for the sequel.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has left comments & enjoyed this story. I know its not for everyone. Please leave any comments, criticism, questions, etc. below. And for those who enjoyed this, please leave any requests (plot, POV, relationships, etc.) for the sequel below. I do not yet have everything planned. It will likely just follow the lives of House Targaryen ten years after this story and cover tourneys, feasts, royal progresses, & Westerosi/Essosi politics. What I can confirm is the first chapter will be on Dragonstone & the first POV is Princess Nymeria Targaryen.


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